


Desperate in Love

by The Neon Gang (clgfanfic)



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Drowning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 09:27:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1118260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/The%20Neon%20Gang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the seven visit the Seminole village the unthinkable happens, and Chris and Vin find themselves in desperate straights.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desperate in Love

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Seven Card Stud #6. This is the slash version of the M7 gen fic Desperate Measures.

_And it's a miracle, how one soul finds another_

_Just one miracle, is all it took my brother_

_For I have seen them, as they walk this world together_

_And I believe, I believe_. – Emmylou Harris "Strong Hand," _Stumble into Grace_

 

 

**Early June, Arizona Territory**

**Four Corners**

The morning dawned bright and sunny, a welcome change from the weeks of on-again, off-again rain that they had been having.  Early summer in the desert was usually hot and dry, but this year had been an exception.  A drizzling rain had plagued them, and, on the rare days that started out bright and sunny, tremendous afternoon thunderstorms broke out like they normally would in late July or August, soaking the already water-logged ground and bringing some flooding to low-lying areas.  No one could remember a summer like this one.  Flowers that would have usually died weeks earlier still bloomed and washes that normally only ran after severe thunderstorms in the nearby mountains now looked like permanent creeks.  The excess rain supported grasses that turned the hillsides a fuzzy green, and rabbits and coyotes could be found in abundance.

And, everyone agreed, the unusual weather was holding the summer heat at bay much longer than usual, the "silver lining" many were overheard to say.  It couldn't last, they all knew that, but for the moment it gave everyone something to talk about, and spared them a few weeks of blistering misery.

The odd weather had also put off the bandits, bank robbers, rustlers and other unsavory types who might have otherwise preyed upon the local townsfolk.  And, as a result, the seven regulators who protected Four Corners found themselves with little or nothing to do – a situation none of them were very comfortable with.  So, it was with the greatest of pleasure that they had accepted an invitation, delivered by Rain, to join her and the other families at the Seminole village for a celebration on the day of the next full moon.

Their resident tracker had been able to tell them exactly which day that would be, and the seven peacekeepers had made their preparations, expectations running high for a fun-filled and much-needed distraction.  Nathan in particular was looking forward to the trip, hoping to continue the unusual courtship he and Rain had begun after he'd helped protect her village.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Then, on the morning of the appointed day, an hour before the sun was due to rise, Larabee woke to the feel of a hand fondling him.  Tanner was curled up along the gunman's back, arm draped over Chris' side, hand cupping his slowly filling cock.  He loved the feel of Tanner's hands on him.  The tracker's movements were always sure and gentle, loving in a manly way that made Chris' blood sing.

          And he knew that they wouldn't be leaving his bed this morning before they were both sated.

          He relaxed, allowing Tanner's skillful fingers to tempt him to full arousal.  Behind him, Larabee could feel the tracker's own prod – already coated with the oil the tracker had procured from the Chinese apothecary – swelling where it was pressed along the groove of the blond's ass.  He loved the feel of that long, thick pole, ever so slightly curved so it seemed to reach out and offer itself to his touch.

          He smiled, easily calling to mind the expression that settled onto Tanner's face whenever Chris accepted that invitation and took hold of Vin's cock.  The tracker's head would fall back, long hair swinging at his shoulders.  Those beautiful blue eyes would half-close, the blue becoming deeper with Tanner's rising desire.  Lips would part, the tip of Vin's tongue darting out to lick at his lips, a siren call to the gunslinger.

          He could never resist that call, either.  It drew him like a lodestone to a magnet.  And he would kiss Tanner, grinding his lips against the tracker's, his tongue plunging into the man's sweet mouth.  He loved the way Vin's lips would darken and swell under the assault, becoming more desirable.  And Chris would respond, licking them, kissing them, sucking on them until Tanner was writhing with need.

          He loved it when Vin jerked and squirmed, grinding his ass on the bed, arching his back, begging Chris to pleasure him.  And he almost always did.  He touched the man's chest, ran his hands over the tight cords of muscle that covered bone . . . his wild thing . . . his to tame.

          And he knew how to tame Tanner.  Knew how to rub over his chest, how to tease at the small, hard nubs – pinching, pulling, rubbing . . . then licking at them, suckling.  And Vin would moan, the sound springing up from somewhere deep in the man's soul.  It was the most arousing sound Larabee had ever heard and it never failed to set his cock to weeping.

          He loved the taste of Tanner's skin, the smell of his musky sweat.  He loved the feel of the muscles moving under his touch.  He loved to watch the tracker lose himself in the sensations only Chris could rain down on Vin's body.  And, more than anything, he loved the sound of the man begging him to release him from the aching need that possessed the tracker, loved the way Vin breathed out his name like it was a prayer.

          The echoing sound of it rang in Larabee's ears and he pressed his hips back, mashing the throbbing rod that covered his crack and drawing a soft groan from Tanner.  He wanted to roll over and attack the tracker, but Vin's legs had his own trapped.

          "Vin," he called softly.

          "Mmm," was the reply, a hand forcing its way under his side and then coming up to tease at his already hard nipple.  Tanner's other hand continued to work the gunman's cock.

          "Vin," he tried again, struggling weakly, but his body was too lethargic with pleasure to put up any real fight.

          Besides, he didn't want to fight.  He wanted Tanner to bring him the release his body craved.

          And, as if hearing Chris' thoughts in his own mind, Vin's fingers tightened on the blond's balls, squeezing and pulling, making Larabee's hips begin to jerk in an insistent rhythm.

          Larabee could feel the fluid leaking from the tip of Tanner's cock creeping down the crease of his ass, making it even easier for Vin to slide his hard prod up and down inside the oil-coated crack, the friction over the bud of his hole making Chris whine with frustration.  He squeezed his cheeks tight, trapping Tanner's cock as best he could and winning a soft gasp from the tracker.

          Larabee felt Tanner pull his arm out from under Chris' side.  Then the head of the tracker's cock was hunting for that bud.  Chris pulled his knees up closer to his chest, opening himself more for Vin.

          There was an almost immediate pressure poking at him, not to breach his defenses but to arouse his desire to be breached.  And it worked.  Larabee was quickly pushing back, trying to impale himself.

          Then, when Chris pressed back, Vin pressed forward, the tapered, flared head of his cock sliding into the hot channel like a hand into a well-worn glove.  The fix was perfect, comfortable, and a little tight.  Both men sighed their pleasure at the timeless moment that lingered, holding them suspended in an awareness of their bond.

          Then, Chris pressed back and Vin pushed forward, deepening the connection between them.  And when they were as joined as they could be, they paused, drifting in the awareness of their union.  But other passions soon took over and they began to move, each seeking to pleasure and to find release.

          And it was Vin who came first, ramming himself up Larabee's chute and jerking wildly as he filled the man with his seed.  Then, caught in the afterglow, he was powerless when Chris pulled himself off the slowly softening rod and rolled over.  Turning Tanner, his hand going to the tracker's cock, capturing seed and oil, rubbing it onto his aching member, he pushed into Vin, sinking into the tight heat he so craved.  He almost came then, but he managed to hold it off, allowing himself to plunge into the close-fitting, fevered grasp several times before he too came, hips jerking convulsively as he released a flood of seed into the tracker's shaking body, Tanner joining him with a dry orgasm that had Vin whimpering softly.

          They rode the passion out, drifted on the serenity that followed, content in tangled limbs and soft, languid kisses.  Sleep carried them off for a short while, then the demands of their bodies woke them as the sun rose on a new day.

          They relieved themselves in the enamel chamber pot, then dressed and, taking a change of clothes, walked to the bathhouse to clean themselves.  No words passed between them, none needed to speak the feelings they shared.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Later that morning, the Seven met in the livery.  They saddled their horses, easy banter flowing between them as they worked.  When everyone was ready, they headed toward the Seminole village at a leisurely pace.

"Anyone know why we're the guests of honor?" JD asked the group as they rode along, enjoying the extended spring.

No one had an answer, so Vin suggested, "Probably jist want t' thank us fer helpin' 'em out last year.  Some tribes mark the anniversary of 'n important event like that by holdin' a celebration.  It's a way fer 'em t' thank their spirits fer lookin' out fer 'em."

JD puffed up a little.  It was also the anniversary of when he and these other men had come together to work as peacekeepers.  And it was also a year since he'd arrived in the West.  And both occasions were worthy of celebration as far as Dunne was concerned.  But then his shoulders sagged a little and he shot Vin a sideways glance.  "Uh, we ain't gonna have to say anything, are we?"

Vin glanced over at the younger man.  "Hell, JD, I don't know," he replied.  "Might have t' say a few words.  Why?"

JD blanched.

"What's the matter, JD?  Don't ya like talkin' in front of a bunch of folks?  All of 'em watchin' ya, hangin' on your every word?" Buck teased the younger man.

JD looked from Vin to the ladies' man.  "I didn't say that," he snapped defensively.

Josiah and Nathan exchanged knowing, amused smiles.  Chris sighed softly and tried to look unamused, but Vin saw the mirth in the gunslinger's eyes.

Wilmington grinned.  "Hell, kid, all ya got t' do is just speak what's in your heart an' it'll be fine."

"I ain't goin' out there to court those people, Buck."

"I knew a priest once," Josiah said, his deep voice a melodic rumble from the back of the group, "got so nervous standing up in front of his congregation he'd start to shake like a leaf in a strong wind . . . One time, he got to shaking so bad, he fell down, right there in front of the altar."

The preacher paused and JD twisted around in his saddle, asking anxiously, "What'd he do?"

"Well, he started praying, but his throat was closed up so tight he sounded like a screeching harpy sent straight from the Pit.  The people thought he'd been possessed by Lucifer himself."

JD's eyes rounded.  "What happened?"

Josiah blinked innocently.  "They burned him at the stake."

"What?" JD yelped.  Then he scowled and shook his head.  "Ah, preacher, you're pokin' fun at me – just like Buck."

"Just that last part, JD," Josiah assured the young man.  "Father Andrew was a good friend of mine.  He eventually got used to saying the Mass in front of an audience, but it was never easy for him.  The important thing was that he tried."

JD looked a little more mollified.

"If you should ever desire some helpful suggestions," Ezra said solicitously, "I would be more than happy to share some of my accumulated wisdom with you."

"No, thanks," JD told the gambler.  "I don't want t' court these people, _or_ swindle 'em."

The others laughed.

"Very well," Ezra replied, ignoring the comment, "but I assure you, Mr. Dunne, the methods I could describe are time-tested and sure to–"

"Hell, Ezra, what d' ya need methods fer?" Vin asked him, interrupting the pitch the gambler was winding up.  "Ya got 'nough charm t' talk the whiskers off a wolverine."

"Why, thank you, Mr. Tanner," Ezra replied, his expression stating clearly he wasn't sure if he'd been complimented or insulted.  But he chose to assume the former.  "I can't tell you how gratifying it is to see that someone has seen my natural, God-given talents for what they are."

The others snorted and shook their heads.

"What would that be?" Vin asked him.  "'Nother weapon up yer sleeve."

"Exactly, my good man.  Exactly," Ezra agreed with a smile.

The ride continued peacefully, full of high-spirited discussions, all seven of the men enjoying the warm sunshine, the rain-greened landscape and the company.  Chris and Vin exchanged occasional glances, each of them thinking back to the pleasures they'd shared earlier that morning.  And from the twinkle in the tracker's blue eyes, Chris guessed they were in for an enjoyable evening as well.  Being out of town made the tracker more adventurous, and more amorous, and Chris was more than happy to indulge whatever Tanner might come up with.

When they finally arrived at the Seminole village, they were met by a welcoming keen from the women and girls, and an enthusiastic war cry from the men and boys.

The chief, Tastanagi, stepped out to greet them, and Rain appeared, along with Opa Locka, who flashed Buck several flirtatious glances through her long, dark eyelashes.  The ladies' man was instantly all smiles, just like Nathan was when he saw Rain smiling shyly at him over her best friend's shoulder.

"I think she likes me," Buck tittered softly to the healer as he nodded and grinned at the young woman.  But Nathan's attention was only on Rain, the young woman looking even more beautiful than she had the last time he'd seen her.

          "Uh-huh," Jackson replied distractedly.

          The seven peacekeepers dismounted and some of the children ran forward to take their horses to one of the corrals.

          "Welcome, my friends, welcome," the chief greeted, smiling at them.  "We are most honored that you have come to join us this day."

          "We're honored ya asked us t' come," Vin replied for the others.

          The old man nodded his thanks to the tracker.  The man called Vin Tanner had lived among the Indians, of that he was sure.  And he had obviously learned many of their ways.  He would make a good husband for one of his young maidens, if he could arrange it, but he suspected the man's heart already belonged to the one called Larabee.  "Come, come, my friends, it is nearly time for us to eat."

          One of the children ran up to Ezra as the regulators trailed after the chief, asking excitedly, "Will you show us more tricks?  Please?"

          The gambler smiled down at the little girl, saying, "Why, I would be delighted to perform some of my amazing feats of magic.  It would be my honor and my privilege for such a beautiful young woman as yourself."

          The girl blushed and giggled, then hurried off to help her mother, who called to her from the doorway of one of the repaired houses.

          "I see you've acquired some admirers among the Seminole," Josiah observed with a grin.

          Ezra flashed him a smile.  "Another of my many natural gifts," he replied smoothly.

          "If ya ask me, it'd be a gift if it worked on the ones a little older," Buck teased the gambler, his head turning as he passed Opa Locka.  He smiled, tipping his hat, his gaze captured by her come hither glance.  He tripped and stumbled forward several steps.

          The young women giggled at him while his friends all laughed.

          "And I see your 'animal magnetism' is in full flower today, Mr. Wilmington," the gambler returned, adding, "I'll be sure to sit up-wind."

          "An excellent idea, brother," Josiah agreed.

          "Better watch yo'rself," Nathan cautioned the ladies' man.  "I hear that one's lookin' hard fo' a husband."

          Buck's head whipped around and his eyes flew open wide as he stared at his friend.  "A husband?"

          Nathan nodded.

          Wilmington paled slightly, then blew out a breath and shook his head.  "You're a good friend, Nathan, a damned good friend.  Thank you."

          The healer fought back a grin as he nodded.  "Just watch yo'self."

          "I will," Buck promised him.  "Believe me, I will . . . A husband?"  He shuddered dramatically, drawing laughs from Nathan, Josiah and Ezra.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          As they followed the silver-haired man, Chris glanced around the village.  The destruction that had been visited on the community had all but disappeared.  The houses, corrals, and lean-tos had all been rebuilt and the small pens holding chickens and pigs had been repaired as well.  The abundant rain had helped their small gardens, which had already grown tall and lush with healthy-looking vegetables.  Wild flowers grew in clumps around the houses and the fences, adding color to the community.

          "Looks like you haven't had to show anyone your hospitality," the gunslinger observed with a faint smile.

          "Or our hostility," the old man agreed, nodding seriously.  "The Spirits of this new land have been kind to us this year."

          Tastanagi led the seven men to a small clearing that was ringed by tall cottonwoods.  The wide tree branches cast dappled shade over the entire area below them and colorful woven blankets had been spread out on the ground in that shade, bowls and baskets full of food waiting in the center.

          "Please, my friends, come and eat with us.  Today we celebrate our victory over the Confederate ghosts," the chief said.  "Our first victory in this new land."

          Chris could see the pain hidden in the old man's eyes and knew this was also a celebration of his son, Imala.  The gunslinger clearly remembered the young Seminole man and how he'd died, fighting side-by-side with white men he could count as his friends.  And as a man who had lost a son, he understood the bittersweet feeling that had to be coursing through the older man.  But those feelings were tempered by the presence of his grandson, who looked to be healthy and growing like a weed.  Larabee's gaze slid to Tanner.  He had found his own salvation in the tracker.

Reaching the blankets, the seven men spread out and sat down on the blankets, accepting the food and drink that was passed to them by the Seminole men, women and children.  It was a bounty freely shared, and each of the peacekeepers was honored by the friendship it represented.

Many of the young women took seats near Buck, the children settling near Ezra and Vin, which prevented the tracker from sitting next to Larabee.  Chris' gaze swept over Vin, and then the rest of his men, and he felt himself relax – something he rarely allowed himself to do.  He was among friends here, and family.  And knowing he wasn't alone any more lifted some of the burden he had carried since his wife's and son's deaths, dissipating his usual depression like a morning fog in sunlight.

His gaze returned to the tracker, who was seated across the blanket from him.  Vin immediately looked up and met his eyes, his expression silently asking if anything was wrong.  Chris' head barely moved, but it was enough to reassure Tanner that all was well.  Vin looked back down at the small boy who had been talking to him.

For a brief moment Larabee wondered what it might have been like, seeing Vin with Adam, but the memory of the boy's smiling face was too painful and he pushed it away, determined to enjoy the day and not dwell on his past – something he did too much anyway.  Besides, the life he had with Tanner wouldn't have been possible in a world where Adam lived.

Chris started slightly, realizing for the first time that, if he were given the choice today, he wouldn't be able to pick between Sarah and Vin.  How could he live without both of them if they were both alive?  And, with Sarah dead, how could he possibly survive if he ever lost Tanner?

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

From the corner of his eye, Tanner saw the flash of pain cross Larabee's face and he knew the black-clad man was thinking about his lost wife and child.  But the grief passed quickly and Vin sighed softly to himself, glad, but wishing he knew a way to ease the man's sadness.  He never suspected that he did just that with his steadfast friendship and love.

Then the blond's expression changed, and Vin frowned, unable to read it.  That unsettled the tracker and he wanted to watch, see if he could puzzle it out, but the boy was tugging on his sleeve again.  He looked away.

He knew Larabee was still watching him, but he turned his attention back to the boy, hoping the celebration wouldn't be too painful a reminder of what Chris no longer had to celebrate himself.

The child smiled shyly up at the tracker, asking about his blue eyes, and where they had come from.  And Tanner had an answer for him, the one his Kiowa family had taught him many years ago, when he wasn't much older than the child seated next to him.  He knew Chris was listening as well, but he didn't mind.  He had no secrets from the man.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**An hour or so later**

          About halfway through the meal they heard the first rumbles of thunder on the far side of the foothills the village was built along.  Vin and several of the older men all looked up into the sky, studying the clouds and birds they found there.

"Better move this under that ledge," Vin said, nodding at a rocky shelf that jutted out from about halfway up the hillside.

Two of the old men nodded their agreement and the women stood and began shifting the food blankets over to the protected area.  The blankets followed.  Before all of the others could rejoin them under the overhang, lightning flashed above them and the rain began to fall, lightly at first, and then with more determination.

Most of the villagers took cover under the jutting stone ledge, but a few hurried off to their homes instead.  The peacekeepers remained with the majority of the people under the overhang, waiting out the storm.

"Again?" JD lamented, staring out at the falling rain.  "I hate this!  I've never seen so much rain!"

"Wet summer," Vin said matter-of-factly.  "Happens sometimes, JD.  Makes it so the springs'll still run in the dry years."

Dunne thought about that for a moment and then nodded, saying with a sigh, "Guess it's a good thing then."

Vin nodded.  "Ya get stuck out in the desert, ya'll be grateful a summer like this fed the spring that'll keep y' alive – if ya c'n find it."

Chris watched the exchange, marveling again at how easily Tanner seemed to impart his knowledge to others, especially JD.  He was a patient teacher and his wisdom was something Larabee replied upon, more than he'd ever really realized.

More lightning crawled across the darkening sky, followed by loud cracks of thunder, some so loud a few of the children squeaked with fright.

"I felt the ground move!" JD yelped, looking down at the wet earth under his feet.

"Just the thunder," Buck told him with an amused grin.

"I'm tellin' ya, Buck, I felt it move!" JD argued with the man.

Chris glanced over at Vin, who nodded his agreement with the young sheriff.  Tanner had felt the tremor too.  Then the skies seemed to open up and the rain poured down so hard that they couldn't see the houses built just beyond the cottonwoods, or even the trunks of the big trees themselves.

Several minutes later the pounding rain came to an abrupt stop.  And, a few minutes after that, the clouds began to break apart and drift away, carried on a swift wind high up in the sky.

The peacekeepers helped the villagers gather up what was left of their feast, carrying it back to their homes.  The men and women then gathered in the center of the village, beginning to sing and dance.

The seven regulators stood and watched, Buck flashing smiles at all the young women who happen to glance his way – and that was quite a few.  "Like lookin' at ripe fruit on the vine," he sighed longingly.  "And it's all just waitin' to be plucked and savored."

"Just be sure you don't pluck one that's already got herself a husband," Nathan warned him.

Buck's reply was interrupted by two small boys who came running into the center of the celebration, chattering excitedly in Seminole.  The old chief frowned as he listened to them, and the dancing came to an abrupt halt.

"What is it?" Chris asked the old man, worried by Tastanagi's sudden concern.

"One of the children is trapped in the old gold mine," he replied.  "We must hurry."

Chris and the other peacekeepers followed the old, silver-haired chief and several other Seminole men as they took a narrow path that led up the side of the foothills.  The ground was wet and slick in spots, but they kept moving swiftly.

"I only wish I had known about this fortuitous shortcut before," Ezra muttered under his breath.

"So you didn't have to ride out on us?" JD asked him.

The gambler shot the young sheriff a pained look.

"Sorry, Ezra," JD immediately apologized.  "I know it was different then; you didn't really know us.  Besides," he added, "you came back to help."

"I was another man then," Standish said softly.  "Another man."

JD shot him a half-curious, half-concerned look, but said no more.  It didn't appear that the gambler wanted to talk about it.

When they reached the mouth of the mine shaft, the chief called out loudly in his own language.  A small, frightened voice answered him in the same tongue, but the boy sounded frightened to everyone's ears.

"He all right?" Nathan asked the chief, his brow pinched with worry.

"Tosi says that he is trapped," Tastanagi told the healer.  Then he spoke loudly into the mouth of the shaft again, but this time there was no reply.

Chris started into the mine, Vin on his heels.

"Gentlemen, you may wish to reconsider," Ezra said softly, stepping out to stop them.  His gaze darted to the old chief, not wanting to offend him, but still needing to warn his friends about the dangers he knew they would face.

"Someone has to go get that boy," Chris snapped, meeting the gambler's eyes.

"I agree, Mr. Larabee, completely, I assure you.  But, if you'll notice," Ezra said, waving down at the foot-wide rivulet of water running from the mouth of the shaft.  "The ground water is rising.  A result of the numerous storms we've been having, no doubt.  Parts of that old mine are, most assuredly, under water.  If one of those walls should weaken and collapse, or give way even partially, the water–"

"I'll go," Vin cut in.  "I c'n track the boy an' git 'im out quick.  He cain't be too far in if we c'n hear 'im from here."

"You're not going alone," Chris told the tracker, his tone making it clear that there was no use arguing with him, because he wasn't going to change his mind.

"Better if I do it alone," Vin replied, wanting to protect Larabee, if the stubborn man would just let him, but he already knew it was wasted breath.  "Ezra's right – it's goin' t' be unstable in there."

"Let's go," Chris broke in.  "We're wastin' daylight."  Then he stopped and looked back at the others saying, "Wait here; just in case there's trouble."

"Watch your backs," Buck told them, looking worried and unsure if he should listen to Larabee this time.

Chris nodded, flashing his oldest friend a small smile.  "We'll be right back," he assured the ladies' man.

The tracker nodded to Wilmington as well, and then, together, Vin and Chris ducked into the mine shaft, making their way past a tangle of rubble just inside the opening.  "Buck," Chris called back outside.

"Yeah?" he asked, starting in to join them.

"No!" Chris snapped.  "Just get me a branch or something we can use to burn for light."

Wilmington nodded and ducked back out.  A few moments later he stepped in just far enough to hand Larabee a thick tree branch that had been wrapped with cloth and was already burning.  "Wood's wet, but it should work long enough for you to find something better.  Be careful, both of you," he added as more small rocks and loose dirt fell from the ceiling of the shaft.

"Get out of here," Chris told the man.  Then, taking the burning branch, he headed farther into the shaft, calling for the boy.  Several yards in, he found an old torch that had been left along the wall of the tunnel and picked it up, setting it alight and handing it to Tanner.

With the additional illumination, Vin spotted another recent collapse of beams and rocky fragments from the ceiling of the shaft.  And at the edge of that pile he spotted Tosi, lying half-buried under the rubble.  "There," he said, pointing.

          He and Chris hurried over to the boy, Larabee leaning his torch against the wall of the passage, then checking to see if the child was alive while Vin thrust the end of the torch into the dirt and started digging to free him.

          Tosi moaned softly as Vin worked and Chris knelt and lifted the boy so his shoulders rested on his thighs, keeping him out of the water that was slowly starting to pool on the ground around them.

The boy's eyes blinked open and few moments and he gasped, frightened at first.

          "Easy, son," Chris said, his voice soft and soothing.  "We'll have you out of here in no time."

          Tosi looked from Chris to Vin, recognition finally easing his expression.  "Did Ezra come, too?" he asked them airily.

          "Yep," Vin replied, still digging.  "He's waitin' fer ya outside.  Been showin' yer friends more 'a them fancy card tricks 'a his.  Ya ask nice, he'll show 'em t' you, too."  He looked up, meeting Chris' worried gaze.  "See if ya c'n pull 'im out now."

          Larabee gently lifted and pulled, the child sliding free of the pile with a little effort.

Chris stood, cradling the boy in his arms, and immediately started back for the entrance of the cave.  Vin grabbed the burning torch and hurried past the gunslinger to light their path out.

          "Chris?" they heard Buck calling.  "Chris!"

          "We got him!" the gunslinger called back.  "We're comin' out!"

          But three steps farther on another tremor hit, more violent than the first.  A low, growling rumble gave them warning a moment before the ground began to shake, but there was no time to do anything.

"Run!" Vin snapped at the gunslinger.

Chris started to comply, but the sharp crack of wood splitting filled the shaft like a gunshot the moment before ceiling fragments rained down on Larabee and the boy.

The gunman lost his footing and knew he was going to fall.  He flung Tosi away, hoping to spare the child another pummeling.

The boy squealed with fright, but Vin caught him and set him down on his feet.  "Chris!" the tracker called, turning to look at the gunslinger as more debris fell down on him.  Tanner pressed the torch into Tosi's hand, saying, "Head fer the entrance – _now!_ "

          The boy nodded, his eyes wide and full of fear, but he didn't move.

"Go!" Vin told him, pointing.

Tosi jumped at the sharp tone of the tracker's voice and hurried away as fast as his feet could carry him.

          The shaking stopped as Vin reached Chris, who lay in the midst of the fallen debris but was already struggling to his feet.  Tanner grabbed the man's arm and helped him up.  "Ya all right?" he demanded, fear for the blond making his chest tight.

          Chris nodded and coughed.  "Let's get the hell out of here," he choked.

          They turned and started after the boy, but another shot-like crack exploded in the shaft and, a moment later, wood, rock and dirt collapsed, filling the tunnel in front of them and cutting off their escape.

          The two men dove for opposite sides of the passage, both hoping to avoid being hit by the materials falling from overhead, but rocks and pieces of rotted beams still struck glancing blows.  Chris was knocked off his feet a second time, a blinding flash of light the last thing he remembered seeing before a wave of blackness overtook him and carried him away.

 _Vin!_ he cried, but the word never reached his lips.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "Chris!" Vin yelled when he saw Larabee go down for a second time.

The tracker lunged away from the far wall of the shaft, but falling debris caught him along his left side, face to hip, the force driving him to the ground.  He hit the floor of the shaft, rolled and starting to sit up so he could get to Larabee.  But a large portion of the ceiling broke free and fell, landing on Tanner's legs and abdomen.

Vin cried out as something bit painfully into his leg, then his breath was stripped away by the weight of a beam falling across his hips and stomach.

          He fought desperately to draw a breath, but the weight pressing against him made it impossible for him to fill his lungs.  He struggled frantically, but the heavy piece of wood refused to budge.  Panic flared, but a glancing blow to his head carried him unwillingly into the darkness.

          _Chris!_ he exclaimed, but the word never reached his lips.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**At the same time**

          The men gathered at the mouth of the mine staggered backward when the tremor hit and, a few moments later, a cloud of dust belched out of the open mouth of the shaft.

          "Chris!" Buck cried, fear squeezing his heart with its icy fingers.

          Tosi darted out of the entrance, dropping the torch when he saw the men standing there.  Nathan immediately scooped the boy up and began to check him over for injuries.  "Where are Chris and Vin?" he asked the child.

          "Inside," he said, beginning to cough.

As soon as the air cleared enough to allow them to see the entrance of the mine, the other peacekeepers rushed forward into the opening.

          "Chris!" Buck bellowed.  "Chris, can ya hear me?  Vin!"

          JD immediately began digging into the jumbled pile of rocks, dirt and broken wooden beams, but as soon as he created a hole, more debris rushed to fill in the space.

          "Stop," Ezra said, reaching out to grab hold of JD's shoulder, but the young sheriff shrugged him off, continuing to dig.  "Stop!" the gambler snapped, more loudly this time.

          JD jerked up, surprised by the man's tone, and the command.  "We've gotta _do_ something, Ezra!" he snapped back at the man.  "They could be buried in there!"

          "There is far too much debris here for us to move it," Ezra said, his gaze sweeping over the portion of the shaft he could see.  "We'll never be able to tunnel through all of this in time.  And we would require support beams as we progressed if we did."  He looked upward, his brow furrowing in thought.  "Perhaps we might reach them in time from above."

          "There's got to be a whole lot more earth to move above us than in front of us," JD argued with him.

          "The mine's built into the hillside," Josiah said, nodding as he caught on to what the gambler was suggesting.  "The shaft might be close to the surface at the top of the hill."

          Ezra turned to the chief saying, "Send someone back to the village.  Bring back more help.  You and the rest of your people stay here.  My friends and I will go up onto the hilltop and call for you.  With luck, you'll hear us.  If so, call back, or send someone to say that you've heard us."

          The silver-haired man nodded, then turned and gave his instructions.

          Nathan joined them, still holding the boy.  "He's gonna be fine," he said.  "Chris and Vin?"

          "They're still in there," Buck stated, frowning at the pile of rubble.  It was hard to imagine that anyone could have survived, but he refused to accept that they were dead.

          "Not for long, Mr. Wilmington," Ezra said, stalking back out of the shaft, the other peacekeepers following him.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 **A few minutes later**

          Water flowed into the tunnel, spreading out and creeping closer to the fallen gunslinger, reaching Larabee's hand first, running down along the front and back of his arm.  When it reached his chin, Chris moaned softly as consciousness returned in a painful rush.  He coughed and spat, trying to clear the dust from his lungs and the muddy water from his mouth.  Then, with an effort, he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees so he was out of the rapidly rising water.

His surroundings seemed to dip and warp with abandon as soon as he moved and he closed his eyes for a moment, willing the violent motion to stop.  When he opened them again, the world had stopped its bizarre contortions, but his head still throbbed excruciatingly.  He started to stand, but had to stop when the motion forced him to retch.

          As his stomach emptied itself, he realized he was staring down into several inches of water.  He frowned, wiped his dripping hand over his mouth, and then dared to glance up again.  Memory and realization hit him at once: earthquake . . . cave-in . . . Vin.

          "Vin!" he called as loudly as he could, but the tracker's name came out as a weak, gritty scratch.

There was no reply and Chris forced himself to his feet, looking around as best he could in the semi-darkness.  Dust still hung heavily in the air, and he staggered through the water a few steps.  "Vin!" he called again.  And then he saw the tracker, lying in the water, floating actually, a pile of debris covering his lower body.

          "Tanner!" Chris called sharply, hurrying over to the man.  He knelt down and lifted Vin's shoulders out of the water.  The quick action caused the gunman's head to pound, setting off sparks of lights that danced in front of his eyes, but he forced the pain back and called, "Vin?  Can you hear me?  Damn it, Vin, open your eyes."

          And blue eyes fluttered opened slowly.  "Damn, Cowboy, what did ya hit me with?"

          Chris snorted softly.  "Just a whole damned mine shaft," he replied, trying to see how bad the situation was for the tracker.  "Can you move your legs?"

          Vin looked down at his buried legs and tried to move.  He sucked in a sharp gasp and froze.  "Cain't move."

          "Damn," Chris hissed, his heart racing.  "Can you sit up?  Let me see if I can dig you out."

          Vin nodded and, with Chris' help, he was able to stay in a seated position if he held on to the beam that seemed to be trapping him.  The water was just high enough to almost cover his lap.

Looking down, Tanner realized that the beam must have shifted somehow, ending up on his hips and upper thighs, but his ribs ached with a fiery agony that told him they were either cracked or broken.  He watched as Larabee began digging through the pile with his hands.  The gunslinger's eyes were pinched at the corners, as was his mouth.

"Chris, ya hurt?" he asked the gunman, worried now about Larabee more than himself.

"Head hurts," the blond replied, adding, "It's nothing."  Vin didn't look like he believed him, but – thankfully – he didn't say or ask anything more.

          It only took a few minutes for Chris to remove most of the rubble covering the tracker.  But that only exposed the larger problem.  One of the overhead support beams had fallen, pinning Tanner's legs beneath it.  And it was big enough that Larabee knew he wasn't going to be able to lift it without some help.

          Meeting Vin's eyes, he said, "You should've gotten out when you could, pard."

          Tanner shrugged and grinned.  "Ain't the first time I overstayed m' welcome."

          Larabee chuckled softly, wiping the sweat from his upper lip with his shirtsleeve.  "Want to try again?"

          Vin nodded and leaned back, bracing his hands against the ground as best he could, the water coming up to his elbows now.  He waited, and when Chris tried to lift the beam he struggled to pull himself out from under the heavy weight.  He managed an inch, at most, before he was stopped by another sudden flash of pain shooting up his left leg and making him shout, "Sonuvabitch!"

          "Vin?" Chris questioned, then swallowed several times as he willed his stomach to settle.  He wasn't sure it was the exertion or the pain that had flooded Tanner's voice that had triggered the reaction.

          "Must have somethin' stuck in m' leg," he said, his words strangled by the searing pain still shooting up his thigh.

          "Don't move," Chris said.  "Let me take a look."

          Larabee dug some more, finally finding the real problem.  A sharp fragment of rock was embedded in the man's flesh just above the knee.  Blood oozed into the water from the wound in dark, twisting rivulets.  He would have to remove the stone if Vin was going to pull himself out from under the beam.  He looked up at the tracker.  "You've got a sliver of stone that's cut into your leg.  If I take that out, you think you can pull yourself free if I lift that beam a little?"

          The tracker shook his head.  "Cain't move more 'n a little, less ya c'n lift that more 'n the last time."

          "Damn," Chris breathed, knowing he couldn't do any better than he already had.  Still, the stone had to come out so he could bind the tracker's bleeding wound.  He moved over and knelt beside Vin, untying the tracker's bandanna from around his neck.

          Vin flashed the gunman a sly grin.  "Ya go any farther, we's gonna have t' get married."

          Larabee snorted.  "I marry ya, you wouldn't know what the hell to do on our wedding night."

          "Hell, Cowboy, what else could ya want me to do I ain't already done?"

Chris shook his head and crawled through the water to the tracker's leg.  He put the cloth in his teeth and looked at Vin.  "Ready?" he asked through the material.

Tanner nodded.

Chris reached into the water, got a grip on the stone and pulled.  Vin cried out, his body jerking in response.

The flares of light erupted in front of Larabee's eyes again, but he pulled the cloth from his teeth, sucked in several deep breaths, and tied the bandanna around Tanner's leg, knotting it down as tightly as he could under the cold water.

The tracker gasped and groaned the entire time, but he remained still while Larabee worked, not wanting to make it any harder than it already was for the man.

"Sorry," Chris said, feeling his stomach starting to rebel again.  He leaned over and quietly heaved into the water.  Wiping his face with his sleeve, he straightened and looked around again.  "I'm going to see if I can find something I can use as a lever on this damned beam."

          Vin nodded, still panting as his leg burned and throbbed.  He glanced down to find the water a few inches deeper already.  "Better hurry, Cowboy," he said.  "This water's risin' fast."

          Larabee nodded and made a search of the section of shaft they had access to, moving as quickly as he could, but he found nothing long enough, or sturdy enough, to use against the heavy weight of the beam.

          He sloshed back to the tracker, noticing that Vin was beginning to shiver.  "Nothing," he said.

          Tanner groaned, his eyes closing, head tilting back.

          "Vin?" Chris asked, immediately dropping down next to the man, his arm going around the tracker's shoulders.  "Vin, what's wrong?"

          "Beam's settlin' . . . dirt's turnin' t' mud under me."

          Chris blew out a breath, knowing he had to think of something, but he was at a loss and his head was hurting so badly it was hard to think at all.  Then it hit him.  He shifted onto his hands and knees and started frantically scooping dirt out from alongside Vin's legs, but a couple of inches down he hit hard caliche.  "Damn it," he hissed miserably.

          Vin met Larabee's eyes and offered him a half-grin.  "Hell, least it means that beam ain't sinkin' no farther."

          Larabee snorted.  "Yeah, at least there's that."

          "Y' sure yer all right, Cowboy?"

          The tracker's eyes were full of worry and Larabee knew he couldn't lie to the man.  "Head feels like I was kicked by a mule," he admitted.

          "Here, let me take a look," Tanner said, turning slightly so he could examine the gunslinger.  The movement made his ribs hurt, but he needed to be sure Chris was all right.  A moment later he said, "Hell, Lar'bee, ya got a good-sized lump here."

          "I'm not the one we need to worry about right now," Chris said, then leaned in and kissed the man's lips.  The kiss was returned, a little too desperately.  Larabee pulled back and pushed to his feet.  "Don't worry about me.  I'm going to look for a lever again.  There has to be something."

          Vin watched him go, deciding he'd just continue to worry anyway.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**A short while later**

          Chris moved through the rising water, still trying to find a way out, but there was none.  With a softly muttered curse, he turned and headed back to Vin.  The cold water was already up to the shivering tracker's chest, and Tanner's face had turned a pasty grey that had Larabee more than a little scared.

          "How're you doing?" he asked Tanner when he reached him.

          "B-been b-better," Vin replied, his teeth chattering noisily.

          "Other end of the shaft's blocked just like this," Chris told him with a sigh, his hand coming up to push the hair off the tracker's face.

          "Prob'ly w-why w-we ain't already d-d-drowned," Vin said.

          Chris' eyes rounded.  "But that water's gettin' in somehow.  If I can find out where–"  He was interrupted by a sharp shaft of sunlight shooting into the semi-darkness and striking the water with startling radiance.  Both men turned their heads away for a moment, allowing their eyes to adjust, then they looked up, half-expecting to see the gates of Heaven, or maybe Hell, opening for them.  But they only found a narrow crack in the top of the shaft that reached to the surface.

          Chris sloshed over to stand directly beneath it.  He squinted, the bright sunlight making his head throb painfully.  The fissure looked wide enough for a man to climb through, if he could get up there.  He knew the water would eventually float him to the opening, and freedom, but Vin was another matter.

          "Y' f-find a w-way out?" the tracker asked him.

          "Looks like," Larabee admitted, glancing over at Vin in time to see the relief flood his features.  The feelings behind that expression felt like a fist in the gunslinger's guts.  Vin was actually comforted, knowing that Chris would survive this, even if he didn't.  "But it's not going to help if we can't get that beam off you."

          "Least I k-know it'll be you collectin' that bounty on m' h-head."

          Larabee's green eyes flashed.  "I'm not collecting anything, Tanner."

          Vin met the man's eyes, holding his gaze as he said, "Y' ain't goin' t' m-move this beam, Chris.  An' there ain't no w-way t' s-s-stop this water from risin', n-neither."

          "There _has_ to be a way!" Chris argued savagely.  "I'm _not_ giving up, damn it.  I can't–"

          Vin nodded.  "Ain't sayin' 'm givin' up, but if it c-comes down t' it . . . rather d-die b-by a b-bullet."

          Chris frowned, fear suddenly flaring in his chest and making it hard for him to breathe.  "What the hell are you sayin', Vin?"

          "Don't want t' d-drown, Chris," the tracker replied, hoping he could make the man understand.  "Seen it happen . . . comes d-down t' it, I want ya t' shoot me b'fore I c'n d-drown."

          "Vin–" Chris started, fully intending to tell the man he couldn't – no, _wouldn't_ – do it, but the raw terror in the tracker's blue eyes stopped him.  Could he actually stand by and watch Tanner drown?  "It's _not_ going to come to that," he said, stalling for time.

          "Don't see how it cain't," was the practical reply.  "I want yer word, Chris.  Please."

          _Damn it!_   Larabee hesitated, still not sure he could actually do it, but he knew he had no choice but to promise Vin he would.  He took a deep breath, his stomach knotting as he forced his jaws to open so he could say, "You have my word."

          "Thanks, Cowboy."  And there was real gratitude in the tracker's blue eyes.

          Which made the gunman's stomach want to turn over, and this time it had nothing to do with the pain in his head.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**Around the same time**

          Ezra led the way to the hilltop, then stood, glancing this way and that, trying to decide where the mine shaft should be located below them.  Once he had picked a likely spot, he stalked over and yelled loudly, "Hello!  Can you hear me?  Hello?"

          "Ezra?" came a faint voice in reply.  "Ezra, that you?"

          "Mr. Larabee?" he called and the others immediately congregated at his location.

          "Ezra, there's a crack!  Find it!  Hurry!"

          The five peacekeepers began to search without delay, Ezra and Josiah on their feet, the other three on their hands and knees.

          "Here!  Chris!" Buck exclaimed, locating the fissure.  He lay flat on the ground and yelled through it, "Chris, can ya hear me?"

"I hear you fine," Larabee replied, staggering slightly when he tipped his head back to stare up at the crack.  The movement brought his headache back with a vengeance.  He couldn't make out Buck's features, but he could see the dark outline of the man's head.

"Here!" Wilmington called over his shoulder to the others.  He looked back down through the crack and hollered, "Chris?"

          "Buck, I need a rope!  Tie it to a horse.  There's a beam on Vin's legs that's got to be lifted off.  The water's rising.  Hurry!"

          The tone of Larabee's voice told the ladies' man just how scared Chris was, and that chilled Buck to the core.  He looked up at the others, saying, "JD!  Go back to the village.  Get the horses and all the rope you can find.  Go!  _Now!_ "

          The young man turned without a single question and left at a full run.

Then Wilmington told the others, "Vin's trapped under a beam."

          "The water?" Ezra asked, able to guess the real danger from the stricken expression on the ladies' man's face.

          Buck nodded, looking away from the gambler's worried expression.  He turned back to the crack, calling down, "JD's on his way!"

          Nathan joined Buck at the edge of the opening.  "Chris, you hurt?" he yelled down.

          "Vin's trapped," was Larabee's reply.  "He's got a cut in his leg."

          "Chris, are _you_ hurt?" the healer persisted.

          There was a moment of silence, then, "Got hit on the head," he called back up, refusing to look at Vin as he did.  "Hurts some."

          Nathan met Buck's eyes and held them.  "He's holding back," the ladies' man said.  "I can tell by the sound of his voice."

          The healer nodded.  It looked like they had two injured men in that shaft, and not much time to get them out from the sounds of it.  "They goin' to fit through this?" Nathan questioned, trying to gauge the width of the opening.

          "I think so," Buck said, leaning into the crack.  "Looks wide enough."  From his position, Wilmington was able to see Chris pretty clearly as he stood below him, one hand raised to shade his eyes.  The familiar black hat was missing and there was a dark streak in the man's blond hair that Buck guessed was blood.  "Damn," he sighed softly.  Then, glancing around, he caught sight of Vin in the gloomy shaft.  The tracker looked like he was shaking, and Buck realized that the man was shivering.  The rising water must be cold.  "Hurry, JD," he said softly.  Then he looked back down and yelled.  "Hang on!"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          JD raced down off the hilltop as fast as he dared.  He stumbled to a stop at the bottom, panting for breath, and then hurried on to the mouth of the mine.  The chief and two other men stood there, waiting.

          "We did not hear you calling," the old man said.

          "We found them.  I have to get back . . . to the village . . . I need the horses and rope . . . as much rope as you have," he panted, trying to refill his burning lungs.

          The chief nodded and turned to the other two men, speaking to them in his native tongue.

"They will take you the fastest way.  The others will be here shortly," the old man told JD.  He gazed up into the sky and began to sing, calling on the Spirits of this new land to help the friends of his people.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 **A half-hour later**

          Chris watched Tanner carefully.  The shivering had stopped and a calm serenity had settled over the tracker.  The water had risen so it was now up to his neck, just beginning to lap at his chin.  As he watched, Vin tilted his head back and closed his eyes.  For a moment it looked as if Tanner was sleeping, or praying, but then Chris realized that Vin was gauging how much longer he had before the water covered his face.

          "They'll be ready soon," he said softly, desperately hoping he was right.

          The blue eyes opened and Vin turned his head so he could look at Larabee.  The longing Larabee saw in his eyes made the gunman shiver.

"Reckon it might not be soon enough.  Water's risin' faster now."

          Moving slowly so the ripples he raised on the surface didn't choke the tracker, Larabee crossed to stand beneath the crack and called up, "I need that rope, Buck!  _Now!_ "

          "They're comin'!" was the immediate reply.  "I can see JD; just a little bit more!"

          "Tell him to hurry, goddamn it!" Chris snapped.  "He's drowning!"

          "Easy, Cowboy," Vin called to him.  "They're doin' ever'thing they c'n; don't need ya snappin' at 'em like a hungry she bear."

          The gunslinger glanced over, meeting and holding the tracker's gaze.  Chris knew that the peace he saw reflected in Tanner's eyes was due, in large part, to his confidence that, should it come down to it, Larabee would pull the trigger, just like he'd promised.  The only problem was, Chris still wasn't sure if he could actually do it, and he sure as hell didn’t want to find out.

But Tanner was rapidly running out of time; that much he knew for certain.  The tracker's head was now tilted back again, and this time the water was almost covering his ears.

          "Here it comes!" Buck called down from above.  A moment later a coil of rope dropped into the rising water with a splash.  Vin coughed and spat water from his mouth when the ripples it created broke over his face.

          Chris scooped up the coil and walked back to the beam.  "Hold your nose and close your mouth," he instructed the tracker.

          "Git movin'," was Vin's only reply.

Then, ignoring his still-throbbing head, Chris sucked in a deep breath and ducked under the water.

As Larabee disappeared, Vin sucked in a deep breath of his own and used one hand to pinch his nostrils closed.  He also squeezed his lips and eyes closed.  Water lapped over his face as Chris sank under the surface.

The blond opened his eyes underwater, but the liquid was too silty for him to see anything clearly, so he closed them again and, using his hands to guide him, found the beam, and then Tanner.  He tied the rope around the wood, close to the tracker's legs, his cold-numbed fingers slow and clumsy.  He silently cursed himself and ordered his fingers to complete their task faster, but it was taking too long.

He surfaced, gasping in a breath.  "Buck!  Pull!" he hollered.  "Pull!"

          The rope was almost immediately drew taut, then it began to squeak as the beam was slowly shifted.

          Chris heard Tanner's muffled cry of pain and looked back at the tracker.  Vin was struggling to free himself, the water lapping over his face as he did.  An expulsion of air was followed by a frantic gasp between the ripples that broke over him.

          "Pull!" Chris yelled again, slogging over and trying to help lift the weight off Vin.

          A moment later there was a sharp _crack!_ and the beam settled onto the tracker again.  The rope had snapped.

          "Buck!"

          "Here!" was the immediate reply, followed a moment later by another coil of rope and then a second.  "Use both!  We're gonna try pullin' from the other side!"

          Chris cursed as he hurried over to grab the new ropes as quickly as he could, pulling them over to the beam.  He grabbed the ends and started to duck back under the water, but Vin stopped him, a hand clutching desperately at his arm.

          "Y' promised," Tanner said, almost strangling as the water began to cover his mouth.

          "Hold on, Vin," Chris begged him, then ducked under the water again.  He worked as fast as he could, his own pain now pushed to the back of his mind as he fought frantically to save his best friend's, his love's life.  He could feel the tracker fighting, trying to strain closer to the surface of the water so he could take another breath.

          Larabee broke the surface, yelling, "Now!  Pull!  Hurry!"

          The ropes went taut again, and the gunslinger looked back only to find Vin's face now completely covered by the cold water.  The tracker's blue eyes were open, staring up at him, pleading with him.

          "Hang on!" Chris yelled at Tanner, grabbing the beam and pushing with every bit of strength he had left, but his gaze never lost its connection with Vin's.  The trust was still there, but there was a growing fear as well.

          Then Tanner began to writhe under the surface, fighting with everything he had for his life.

          Larabee felt the beam begin to shift, but it was moving so slowly.  Too slowly, he knew.

          Vin's arms flailed against the surface of the water, his fists pounding it, and he howled wordlessly at the gunslinger, blue eyes rounding wide with terror.

          Chris could still see those eyes, open under the surface, demanding that he keep his promise.

Larabee released the beam, his efforts not actually helping in the slightest anyway.  Relief instantly flooded Tanner's expression and the peace returned.

There was a shift in Larabee's awareness, as if he were watching someone else reach for his gun – resting safe and dry on a pile of rubble – then point it at the man he called his friend, his love.  Swift images from earlier that day flashed though his mind as he cocked the hammer back and took careful aim.

And all of Vin's struggles ceased and he met Chris' gaze one last time.  The love he felt was all too clear and Larabee trembled violently, unsure if his aim could be sure.  Then the tracker closed his eyes to spare Larabee, and waited.

          "God forgive me," Chris whispered with a strangled sob as his finger began to squeeze.  "I'm sorry, Vin, I'm sorry, God, Vin, I love you. . . ."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Fear like none he had ever known consumed Vin like dry prairie grass in a wildfire.  He knew he was going to drown if Chris didn't keep his word.  He fought, pounding the surface of the water, trying to make Larabee understand that it was time.  _Now_.  Then he caught the man's eyes and he knew.  Chris was hesitating, unable to keep his promise.

          "Now, damn ya!" he screamed as loudly as he could, sacrificing what little air he had left in the hope that, somehow, Larabee would hear and understand him.

          Then he saw Chris step away from the beam, saw the gun in his hand.  He had understood.

Tanner looked up through the water, meeting the anguished green eyes and holding the man's gaze for a long moment, trying to thank him as best he could, trying to tell Chris just how much he loved him.  Then he closed his eyes, not wanting his friend to see the life leave his body.  He felt himself start to breathe in the cold liquid and prayed Chris' bullet would arrive in time.

          And then he felt the beam shift.

          His body reacted automatically, jerking hard, breaking the surface.  He gasped for air, then coughed violently as he choked on the water already in his mouth.  In the same frenzied moment he heard the shot and jerked, expecting to be hit.

          He forced his eyes open as he retched.  But even as his stomach and lungs tried to reject the water filling them, he smiled thinly.  Larabee _had_ kept his promise.  A man couldn't ask for a better friend than that.  It was a rare gift indeed and he hoped he would have been strong enough to do the same for Chris if the situation had been reversed, but he honestly wasn't sure.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Vin shot up out of the water, his head breaking the surface, an immediate, desperate gasp for air filling the space.

Chris' hand jerked at the last possible moment, the bullet slamming into the wall of the tunnel.

          "Chris?" Buck hollered down, his voice full of panic.

          "Whoa!  Stop!  He's out!"

Tanner continued to choke in violent bouts of barking coughs, then leaned forward and retched into the water.

          "Chris?" Buck called again.  "Chris, is Vin all right?"

          "He's alive!" Larabee called back up, not at all sure how the man was actually doing yet.

          "Move him away!" Buck yelled at them.  "I'm cuttin' the horses loose!"

          Chris wrapped his arm around Tanner's shoulders and guided him away from the beam as best he could.  There was a pair of _twanging_ sounds as the ropes were cut and the beam sank slowly to the ground, landing with a dull _thud_.

          A few moments later, two more ropes were dropped down through the fissure.

          "Can you walk?" Chris asked the tracker, who was sagging heavily against him, shaking all over.

          Vin nodded, still wheezing and hacking as he tried to clear his lungs.  Together, the two men struggled through the waist-deep water until they were standing beneath the fracture.

Chris took one of the ropes and tied it around Vin's chest, his hands shaking as he worked, although he didn't understand why.  It was over.  Tanner was alive.  "He's ready!" he yelled up to Buck and the others.

          A few moments later the rope was pulled taut, then began to creak as Vin was lifted slowly upward.  The tracker groaned loudly as he cleared the water.

          "Vin?"

          "'M all right," the tracker gasped, but agony was shooting through his ribs as the rope continued to tightened around him, robbing him of his vision first, and then his consciousness.

          "Vin!" Larabee bellowed when the tracker went limp.  When there was no reply, he yelled to Buck, "Hurry!  He's passed out!"

          As the tracker reached the opening, Buck leaned into the fissure – Nathan and Ezra holding tight to his legs to keep him from falling into the shaft – and helped maneuver Vin through the narrow space so he didn't swing into the sides on the way up.

          Next to the fissure, Josiah waited to pull Vin out when he reached the top of the crevice.

"Here he comes," Buck called back over his shoulder.

The former preacher knelt at the edge and leaned over, taking hold of the tracker and lifting him out.  He laid Tanner gently on the ground.

Once Buck was pulled back up, Nathan went to work, checking the tracker over carefully.

          "Now you, stud!" Buck called down to Chris.

          Larabee tied the rope around himself and yelled, "All right!"  And a moment later he was on his way up, free of the cold water and the shaft at last.

When he reached the fissure, he used his hands to keep himself in the center of the narrow space so he didn't strike the jagged sides.  Then he felt hands grabbing him, pulling him out.  He collapsed back onto the ground, moaning as the pain in his head flared again.

More hands were touching him and Chris forced his eyes open.  Buck and Josiah were checking him over, making sure he wasn't hurt.  He wanted to tell them to stop, to leave him alone – that he was all right – but he couldn't find the strength to do it.  Instead, he rolled his head to the side and watched as Nathan and Ezra worked over Vin.  JD wasn't far away, holding the horses and keeping the villagers back.

Chris sighed with frustration.  How the hell was Vin?  Why weren't they telling him anything?  He tried to sit up, wanting to demand the answers to his questions, but a wave of agony crashed against the inside of his skull.  His green eyes rolled back and he slipped into the darkness, a single word echoing in his mind: _Vin_.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "Vin, where you hurt?" Nathan asked as soon as he was at the tracker's side, his hands going first to the bloody cut on the side of the man's head.  The tracker's left cheek was also bruised, his eye nearly swollen shut as well.

          "M' leg," Tanner replied, his normally raspy voice more raw and gravelly than usual.  "An' m' ribs."

          The healer went to the tracker's leg next, cutting the bloody bandanna off and examining the gash he found underneath.  It was wide, but not too deep.

          Nathan fished into his saddle bags and pulled out the carbolic, needle and thread, and fresh bandages, immediately going to work on the wound – cleaning, stitching, bandaging.

Vin sucked in a sharp breath, his body instantly going rigid when Nathan pulled the cut open and poured in the carbolic.  A moment later he relaxed again, his eyes sliding shut when the flare of pain carried him away on the crest of the burning agony.

          "A godsend," Ezra breathed softly, the expression of pure anguish he'd seen on the tracker's face a moment before having nearly caused the gambler to retch.

          Nathan nodded, glad for any pain his friends could be spared.

The healer had just finished stitching the wound closed a few minutes later when Rain appeared at his shoulder and handed him a jar half-full of a fine brown powder.  "Sprinkle it over the wound," she instructed him.  "It will help keep the infection away for a time."

          Nathan did as she'd said, then wrapped the closed gash tightly enough to protect it, but still loose enough to allow it to drain if infection did set in.

          That done, the healer pulled open Vin's hide coat and unbuttoned the tracker's shirt, pulling that open as well.  Two large, purpling bruises were spreading across the man's body, one along his left side, the other just above his right hip and lower abdomen.

          Nathan carefully checked the tracker's ribs under the bruising, which jolted Vin back to consciousness with a snarling hiss.  "Damn it, Nathan, y' tryin' t' finish me off?" he moaned, beginning to shiver despite the warm sunlight that shone down upon him.

          The healer shook his head.  "Just found a couple 'a cracked ribs is all," he told the man.  Then he turned his attention to the bruise above the tracker's hip.  He pressed and prodded, but didn't find anything to tell him Vin might be bleeding inside.  A small, grateful sigh escaped his lips as he settled back on his heels.  "Done all I can here," he said to the others.  "We need to get the two of 'em back to town."

          "You are welcome to treat them in the village," the old chief offered.

          Nathan shook his head.  "Be better if I can get 'em back to town.  I've got more medicines there."

          The old man nodded his understanding.  "Rain tells me you are a gifted healer, and I have seen it for myself.  We will help you in any way we can, you need only ask."

          "We appreciate that, but right now I just need to get these two on their horses so's we can start back."  Nathan looked down at Vin, who was still shivering.  "I'm gonna take a look at Chris, then we'll get ya back t' town.  You just lay still 'til then, y'hear?"

          Tanner nodded, glancing over at the gunslinger, who hadn't moved in a long while.  Vin's expression was guarded, but the healer could see the worry in the man's expressive blue eyes.

Nathan picked up his saddlebags, saying, "I'll tell you if there's anything wrong," and then moved over to Chris.  He found a lump the size of a silver dollar on the man's head, a small cut in the center, and he cleaned it, which woke the unconscious man.

Larabee sat up with a start.

          "Easy, Chris," Jackson said, reaching out to grab the man's shoulders.  "You're all right."

          "Vin?" Larabee called, starting to turn and look for the tracker.

          "Right here, Cowboy," Vin rasped and the blond immediately relaxed, slumping against the hands supporting him.

          "How is he?" Chris asked Nathan as the healer laid him back down on the ground.

          "I cleaned and closed that gash in his leg.  He has a couple 'a cracked ribs – not too bad, though."  He hesitated for a moment, but it was long enough for Larabee to guess there was something more.

          "What?" he demanded softy.

          "Sounds like he got some water in his lungs. . ."

          Chris shook his head slightly, unsure what the healer was trying to tell him.

          "Gonna have t' watch him for lung fever," Nathan said softly.  "But right now, I want t' know how you're doin'."

          "I'm fine," Larabee replied, starting to get up again, but as soon as he tried to move, the pain flared in his head and his stomach started to turn.  He froze, waiting to see if he was going to be sick.  Thankfully, he wasn't.

          "Well, that don't look fine to me," the healer commented dryly, shaking his head.

          Larabee shot the man a glare that was, annoyingly, ignored.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Less than a half hour later, both men were ready to travel.  Chris climbed painfully into his saddle, his movements slow and unusually awkward for the gunslinger.  He sat on the black gelding, his shoulders hunched and his head down and held as still as he could manage.

          Nearby, Tanner's face contorted with pain as he was hoisted astride Josiah's horse, but he didn't cry out.  The preacher climbed up behind him, bracing the tracker against his chest.

Vin sat, panting from the pain but still looking annoyed and put out.  Peso was tied to the preacher's saddle horn, appearing no happier about the situation than his owner did.

          "'M tellin' y', I c'n ride jus' fine," he argued weakly, but the immediate chill that shook his body cast strong doubts on the validity of his comment.

          "Ya just stay right there, Vin Tanner," Nathan half-growled at the tracker.  "Ya give Josiah any trouble, I'll force a dose of laudanum down yo'r throat and take ya back slung over the back of yo'r horse, y'hear me?"

          Tanner lapsed into annoyed silence, reduced to glowering at the healer.  He could feel the big man's chest shake as the man chuckled softly.  "Ain't a damned bit funny, J'siah," he rasped.

"Just sit back and enjoy the ride," Josiah told the tracker.

          "I c'n ride m'self jus' fine," Vin insisted quietly.

          "Maybe so, but we're not going to find out for sure this time, brother."

          With Chris and Vin mounted, the peacekeepers headed back to town, Nathan, JD and Ezra riding ahead to get the clinic ready while Josiah and Buck stayed back to escort the two wounded men at a slower pace.

          The two uninjured regulators exchanged amused glances as both Chris and Vin muttered softly to themselves about overly cautious healers.  But less than an hour later, those expressions had turned to ones of profound worry.  Vin was starting to build a fever, and Chris was swaying dangerously in his saddle.

          Buck pulled up alongside his old friend and reached out to steady Chris with a hand on his shoulder.  "Easy there, pard."

          "What?" Larabee asked, jerking upright, his hand reaching for his Colt.

          "Easy, stud, easy," Wilmington replied.  "It looked like you were ready t' slide right outta your saddle – that's all."

          "I'm fine," Larabee replied, his shoulders hunching again as his head dipped.

          "That's what ya keep tellin' me," Buck replied, "but I'm not ready t' draw to it just yet . . . I think you're bluffin'."

          Chris shot the man a glare, then glanced over at Vin and asked soft enough that only Buck could hear him, "How's he doing?"

          "His fever's building," Wilmington answered honestly.  "And his leg's bleeding some, but it ain't too much."

          Larabee's gaze swept over the landscape, really seeing it for the first time since they had started out from the village.  They were getting close to Four Corners, and for that he was glad.  Vin could get the treatment he needed there, and he could curl up in his bed and sleep this damned headache away.

          "Whoa, pard," Buck said, his hand on Chris' shoulder again.

          Larabee jerked for a second time.

          "Damn it, Chris, if you're gonna keep fallin' asleep on me, you're gonna have t' ride with me.  I let you fall outta that saddle, Nathan'll skin me for sure."

          "Sleep?" Chris asked him, his expression completely confused.  "Buck, what the hell are you talkin' about?"

          The big ladies' man shook his head.  "That bump on your head must've rattled ya pretty good, pard."

          Chris scowled at the man, but he said nothing.  Instead, he gigged his horse and rode up alongside Josiah.  Vin was leaning back against the preacher's chest, head lolled to one side, eyes closed.  The tracker's face was flushed and Chris could see the blood soaking the bandage wrapped around his leg.

The gunslinger looked up, meeting Josiah's eyes as he asked, "How's his fever?"

          "Still climbing," the preacher replied truthfully, but his voice low so he wouldn't wake the tracker.

          "Damn," Chris replied, his lips pressing into a thin line of worry.  He noted how the big man kept one arm wrapped around Tanner, cradling him gently against his chest.  He wished it was him, holding the tracker, but Vin was in good hands.

          Buck pulled up next to Larabee, refusing to ride next to Tanner's cantankerous horse, which walked on the other side of Josiah's mount.

The men four rode in silence for several minutes, then the ladies' man asked softly, "Chris, I heard a shot down in that shaft . . . what was that all about?"

          Larabee paled slightly as he remembered just how close he'd come to shooting Vin.  "Just trying to keep a promise I didn't want to keep," he said, his expression telling Wilmington that he wouldn't get anything more from him on the subject.

But the ladies' man had a pretty good idea what Chris was talking about, and knowing he'd been right about the reason behind the shot sent a shiver racing down his spine.  He met Josiah's eyes and the preacher said softly, " _Blessed be the Lord, who hath given rest unto his people Israel, according to all that he promised: there hath not failed one word of all his good promise. . ._ "

          Chris kept his gaze fixed stubbornly on the trail and silently wished his friends weren't so damned good at reading his silences.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 **A short time later**

          Vin remained asleep or unconscious until Josiah pulled his gelding up at the clinic, then the tracker jerked back to awareness with a strangled gasp.

          "Easy, brother," came Josiah's low, rumbling voice.

          Tanner stilled, realizing that he was safe, even if he wasn't sure where he was, or what was happening.  He felt Josiah slide off the horse, and the next thing he knew he was being carried up a flight of stairs.  He frowned and forced his eyes open.  They were going to the clinic.  He mumbled a weak protest, but the preacher ignored him.

          Vin was vaguely aware that Buck and Chris were ahead of them, Larabee moving a little unsteadily on his feet.  The tracker tried to remember why that would be the case, but he couldn't.  And then they reached the door.

          "Put me down," Vin grumbled.  "I c'n walk."

          "Not on that leg," Josiah told him, waiting as Buck pulled the door open, he and Larabee stepping inside.  He stepped inside behind them and Vin caught the flash of a reassuring smile from Ezra as the gambler stepped past them, shutting the door.

          "Get his clothes off an' put him in the bed," Nathan called from where he stood, already checking Chris' head wound again.  Buck stood next to the healer, peering over his shoulder.

          "Why don't ya help Josiah?" Jackson suggested to the ladies' man.

          Sanchez carried Vin over and gently sat him down on the bed.  With Buck's help, he carefully removed the tracker's coat and then his shirt, but when the preacher went to take off Tanner's boots, Vin waved him off and took them off himself.

Josiah removed the bandage on Tanner's leg, then the tracker stood and removed his pants as well, but only after Nathan told him if he didn't do it himself, Josiah and Buck would do it for him.  The long johns were next, after the same threat.

          Naked, Vin lay back down in the bed and Josiah covered the wound and then pulled the blankets up to make sure Tanner stayed warm until Nathan could get to him.

          Buck looked over at the preacher, saying, "I'll go see how things are doing and help JD with the horses.  We'll be back."

          "Get yourselves something to eat," Josiah told the man as he turned to leave.

          Chris watched the whole thing, growing more and more worried.  It wasn't like Vin to go along with Nathan's orders like that.  He met Josiah's worried gaze and felt his heart begin to beat faster.  Vin must be feeling awfully bad to be that cooperative.

          "All right, Chris, I'm done," Nathan told the gunslinger.  "I want to take another look at this tomorrow – make sure it don't get infected.  You need to get some rest now, but I want ya to stay here so I can keep an eye on ya.  Head wound ain't nothin' t' be taken lightly."

          Chris frowned, wishing he could put up an argument, but he really didn't want to leave.  He wanted to be close by, in case Vin needed him, so he nodded.

          "Ya can sleep in my bed," the healer said, nodding toward the small space hidden behind a colorful Indian blanket that was draped over a length of rope.

          Larabee stood and shuffled over to the blanket, pulling it back.  He glanced over his shoulder once to see that Nathan had started to work on Vin, then ducked behind the blanket and crawled into the narrow bed, immediately falling asleep.

          Ezra, who had remained in the corner, out of the way, shook his head, saying with honest admiration, "Mr. Jackson, you are a dangerous man."

          Nathan, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, already looking at the wound in Vin's leg, glanced over his shoulder and grinned at the gambler.  "Just you remember that," he replied.

          "Took 'im long enough t' figger that out, didn't it?" Vin asked airily.

          Josiah and Nathan chuckled, Ezra joining in.

          The healer turned his attention back to the tracker, frowning down at the gash, which had turned red and puffy since he'd seen it last.  At least the infection could explain Vin's building fever, and it would be much easier to deal with than lung fever.  Glancing up at Josiah, he said, "Heat some water fo' me."

          The big man nodded and moved off to do as he'd been asked.

While he waited, Jackson poured a small dose of laudanum into a cup and added water.  He handed the mixture to Vin, who hesitated, but then took it and drank it down without comment, although his expression said all he needed to about what the concoction tasted like.

When the water was warm, Nathan carefully cleaned the wound, then used the carbolic on it again before he applied an ointment and then wrapped it up again.

          Vin endured the entire process in stoic silence, but as soon as Nathan covered him up, his eyes dropped closed and he slipped back to the welcome escape of sleep.

          "How does our intrepid tracker fare?" Ezra asked the healer after Nathan had pulled a blanket up and tucked it under Vin's shoulders.

          "Ain't sure yet.  That infection in his leg's gettin' worse, but his fever seems too high fo' that."

          "You thinking lung fever?  Pneumonia?" Josiah asked him.

          Nathan shrugged.  "Hope not, but all that water in his lungs . . . would be a good bet."

          "Not one I would desire to win with," Ezra said quietly.

          "Me either," Nathan agreed.

          The door to the clinic opened and Buck and JD came in.  "How are they?" the ladies' man asked.

          Jackson filled the two men in, adding, "Might be a long night, dependin' on how Vin's fever goes.  It's building, but it ain't too bad just yet."

          "That's why we're here," JD said.  "We want to help."

          "Where's Chris?" Buck asked, glancing around and frowning.

          Nathan nodded to his private quarters, saying, "Gettin' some sleep."

          Buck's eyes rounded.

          "Brother Nathan does work the occasional miracle," Josiah offered by way of an explanation.

          Buck grinned.  "Hell, Josiah, I knew that."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**Late the following evening**

          Vin's fever built slowly over the next twenty-four hours, and with it a wet cough developed that rattled his ribcage and sent searing fingers of pain clawing through his chest.  Chills assailed him, making him shake.  His head pounded and every time he tried to eat anything, he immediately threw it back up.  The wound in his leg throbbed mercilessly, making sleep difficult or impossible.

          All in all, he was purely miserable, and it seemed to only be getting worse.

But at least Nathan had found a way to make clearing his lungs a little more bearable.  The healer and whoever was helping him at the time – the others taking turns in shifts – pressed pillows against the tracker's chest and back as soon as he started coughing up the greenish mucus that seemed to be coating the inside of his lungs and making it hard for him to breathe.  And they held the pillows there until the cough became a painful, wheezing gasp for breath.  It didn't stop the fire from racing along his ribs each time his muscles contracted, but it did make it more bearable.

But each bout of coughing left Tanner a little weaker than the last and the growing concern in his friends' eyes scared Vin.  But he knew he couldn't give up.  No matter what, no matter how bad it got, he had to keep fighting – for them and, most especially, for Larabee.

He knew how much Chris cared for him, how important he had become to the man.  And he suspected that, should he die, Larabee would fall back into the black depression that had nearly killed him when Sarah and Adam had died.  He didn't want that to happen, didn't trust that Chris could pull himself out of it a second time.

He had to fight through this and live.  There were no other options.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 **The next morning**

After Vin's latest attack of wet, racking coughs that were closer to choking than anything, the tracker crumpled into Chris' arms, his sagging body a mass of aching, sweat-coated and quivering muscles.

Larabee gently eased Tanner back down onto the pile of pillows and blankets that had been stacked up to keep him sitting up in the bed.  The gunslinger exchanged a worried glance with Nathan, who sighed softly and shook his head.

The healer stepped away, going over to make some more tea, hoping the tracker might keep it down long enough for the medicines he stirred into it to do him some good.  Vin couldn't seem to keep any food down, but at least the liquids sometimes stayed put.

Vin lay slumped against the pile of pillows, his face pale and filmy with perspiration, his leg wound oozing infection.  Chris went to work, cleaning it as he'd seen Nathan do earlier, but couldn't help grimacing at the sight of the inflamed flesh.

"That bad, huh?" Tanner commented airily.

"Nathan says it's getting better, but I can't see how he can tell," Chris told him, not wanting the tracker to worry, but refusing to lie to him.

"Wish m' chest was," Vin panted.

Nathan returned and held out a cup to Larabee.  Vin, knowing what it was, and what he had to do, tried to sit up so he could drink, but he was too weak and started to sag back.

Larabee quickly slid an arm around his partner and lifted him up, but he had to cradle Vin's head against his own chest to keep him there.  Tanner relaxed against the blond, grateful for the contact.  He missed lying in Chris' arms, touching the man, being touched.  He wished he could just lie down, Chris beside him, holding him.

After a quick but careful shift so Larabee could hold the cup for the weak tracker, Larabee set the rim of the cup to Vin's lips, urging him to drink.  The tracker took a little, but refused more, even when Chris persisted.

"Belly's already tryin' t' turn a flip," he told the gunslinger.

          And, a few short moments later, he was vomiting the sips of medicinal tea into an empty basin.  "Damn it," he breathed when his stomach finally emptied and settled again.

          "Ya just have to keep trying," Nathan told him as Chris helped Vin lay back against the pillows.  "The more ya keep down the better."

"It ain't gettin' no better, Nate," Vin complained.

"It will," Nathan promised him.

Vin nodded and gave up to the exhaustion that dragged at him like insistent hands, trying to pull him into a still, dark pool.  He closed his eyes, letting the blackness sweep him away from the pain.

          Once the tracker was sleeping again, the healer walked over to prepare another powder he had gotten from Ming, the Chinese apothecary who also ran the laundry in Four Corners.  He shook his head, muttering to himself as he worked.

          Larabee walked over to stand across the table from Jackson and asked, "How's he doing?  The truth, Nathan."

          The healer looked up, meeting the gunslinger's worried green eyes and said, "His leg's healing, slowly, but I ain't too worried 'bout it.  It's the fever that's gettin' worse, his lungs, too.  If he could keep the medicine down, it might help him, but he can't . . . He's gettin' weak from lack of food and water."  The healer sighed.  "That's worryin' me some.  A couple more days like this. . ."

          "Isn't there something else we can try?"

          "I sent Ezra t' fetch some of Inez's pudding.  I know Vin's got a sweet tooth.  Maybe he'll be able to keep that down.  I'm goin' t' put some medicine in it and have him give it a try."

          Chris nodded, then yawned, unable to stop himself.

          "Why don't ya get some more sleep," Nathan said, more order than question.  "I'll wake ya if I need ya.  The more rest ya get, the sooner that headache's goin' to go away."

          Chris hesitated for a moment, but then he nodded, knowing Jackson was right.  He might feel better, but his head still ached and sleep seemed like the only way to chase the pain away when it got close to unbearable – and it was close to that now.  Besides, he wouldn't be much help to Nathan or Vin if he couldn't concentrate on whatever the healer was telling him to do because he was too tired, or hurting too much, to pay attention.

          The door to the clinic opened and Ezra stepped inside carrying a bowl of Inez's pudding.  "It is as wonderful as always," he assured the two men.

          Larabee looked back to Nathan, saying, "Wake me up if he needs me."

          "I will," the healer promised, nodding.

          Chris ducked behind the blanket and lay down on the bed without bothering to undress.  He closed his eyes, listening to Nathan's and Ezra's quiet voices for a few moments before he drifted off to sleep, worrying about Vin. . .

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          . . . And found himself back in the mine shaft, Vin still trapped beneath the support beam . . . still sitting under water, he realized with a panicked start.

He was trying to lift the bulky piece of wood off the tracker's legs, but it was too heavy, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't budge it.

          He looked over at the tracker and saw Vin's blue eyes were open, his expression begging him to hurry, but Chris knew with an icy certainty that he wouldn't be able to help the tracker, not in time, anyway.

          "Ya know what ya got t' do," Vin said levelly.

          Chris held the tracker's gaze, the blue orbs demanding, then accusatory.  "I can't," he replied.

          "Ya promised, Chris."

          "I can't, Vin.  I can't."

          "Chris, please," Vin begged him.

          The gunslinger finally reached down, drawing his gun and lifting it so it was pointed directly at the tracker.  Larabee's hand shook violently, the gun seemingly jumping in his hand like it was a living thing.  He could see Tanner's eyes, still pleading.  He could see the man's mouth open, and then the water, rushing into his lungs.

          Vin began to fight, but still Larabee couldn't pull the trigger, his hand shaking so hard that he thought he would drop the Colt, but he didn't.

          "Ya promised!" Vin screamed at him, coughing up blood and what looked like pus.  Both flowed down over his chin, and then floated into the water in stringy strands, staining it a mix of pale red and green.

          Chris tried to close his eyes, but he couldn't.  His friend was dying.  The man he loved in his bed.  And worse, he was suffering.

Larabee knew he could end that suffering.  All he had to do was pull the trigger.  But he couldn't.  He just couldn't.  He loved Vin.  How could he kill the thing he loved?

          "Ya promised."

          "God forgive me," Chris whispered, his finger finally beginning to tighten against the trigger.

          A moment later the Colt's report thundered in the mine shaft, as loud as a cannon shot.  Vin's eyes opened even wider, his gaze locked on Larabee's as his body jerked violently.  Then the tracker smiled thinly and his eyes rolled back in his head.

Tanner drifted slowly up to the surface of the water, where he floated on his back, his arms flung out from his sides.

          "Vin?" Chris said, confused.  How had Tanner gotten free?  What had he done?

Larabee moved through the thick water, which was turning a deeper shade of red now.

When he reached the tracker, Chris found the man's blue eyes open and staring up at him.  And there was a hole, in the center of Tanner's forehead, where blood bubbled out of the wound, running down the sides of the man's head and into the water.

          "Vin?" he called again.  "Vin!"

          But there was no answer.  Vin was dead.  He had killed his best friend, his love.  He had killed the man who knew him better than he even knew himself.  And for what?  Tanner wasn't really trapped after all.

          Then Vin's head turned slightly and the blue eyes met his, the tracker's gaze boring into his.  "Why?" he asked Larabee.  "Why'd ya kill me, Cowboy?  I's almost free . . . I love ya, Chris . . . don't ya remember?"

          "No!" Chris screamed.  "No!"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "No!" Chris screamed, bolting upright in the bed.  He gasped for breath, sweat pouring down his face.

          The blanket was swept back and Nathan rushed in, asking, "Chris, ya all right?  What's wrong?"

          Larabee waved the healer away, then ran a shaking hand over his face.  "Bad dream," was all he said.

          The healer nodded and held his tongue.  "Vin's fever's gettin' worse," he said softly.  "Ya need me?"

          Chris shook his head and Jackson quickly backed out of the space, the blanket dropping back into place.

Sitting up in the bed, waiting for his heart to stop pounding, Chris could hear Vin out in the clinic, struggling to breathe, each inhalation wet and rattling.  And then the coughing started again and, when it was over, all he could hear was the tracker's weak gasps and soft moans.

          "Easy," he heard Nathan say.  "I want ya t' try drinking this."

          "No," Vin panted in reply.  "Cain't."

          There was a pause, then the healer said, "All right, but I need you to help me here.  Me and Buck are going to set up a steam tent for ya.  I want you to sit under it and breathe the steam in as deep as you can.  Ya do that?"

          Larabee knew Vin must have nodded his willingness to try, because he could hear the sounds of someone moving around.  He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood.

Pushing past the blanket, he found the tracker sitting on the edge of the bed, his head and shoulders hidden under a piece of tarp.  Steam curled out from under the bottom of the canvas, the wisps of grey mist carrying an odd aroma to the gunslinger.

          Chris walked over to where the healer stood beside Vin, and asked, "What're you doing?"

          "Got some oil from Ming.  Said if I could get Vin t' breathe the vapors, it would loosen the phlegm.  Figured it was worth a try since he can't seem to keep anything down."  There was a pause and then he added, "I'm runnin' out of ideas."

          Larabee nodded.  "Anything I can do?"

          Buck walked over carrying a kettle.  "Water's ready," he told Nathan, then shot Larabee a reassuring glance.

          The healer took the kettle and lifted the tarp a little, pouring more boiling water into the basin sitting in the tracker's lap.  "Just stay under there and keep breathing," he told Tanner, then turned to Chris and said, "If this works, he's goin' to start coughin' soon.  If you can sit behind him and hold the pillow against his back, that'll make it a little easier fo' him when it starts."

          Chris nodded and climbed onto the bed.  "Easy, pard, just me," he said, sliding in behind Vin and leaning back against the wall of the clinic.  He sat there, waiting, wishing he could reach out and hold the tracker.  He wanted the man whole and well.  He wanted to run his fingers over the man's chest, tease the small, hard nubs, kiss his shoulders . . . reach down and take him in his hand. . . .

          A few moments later, the first cough erupted from under the tarp.

          Buck and Nathan quickly removed the cover over Vin's head and took the basin away.  Chris pressed a pillow against Vin's back and the tracker grabbed another one, pulling it tight against his chest and holding it there as a second, third and fourth cough tore though him.  It felt like he was trying to rid himself of his lungs, a chunk at a time.

          Nathan passed Tanner a cloth for him to spit into, then helped hold the pillow more tightly against the man's chest and ribs.

When the bout finally ended, Vin slumped back, ending up pressed against Chris' chest, too weak to move.  Awareness slipped though his thoughts, elusive and fleeting.  Was it the same day as the festival, or another?  He thought he'd spent a day or two with the fiery agony ripping though his chest, but maybe he'd only been dreaming it.  Had he made love with Chris just this morning?  It seemed like forever had passed since he'd been buried inside the man.  He wished Chris could take him right here, make him forget all the other aches and pains hat assailed him.

Or maybe he had actually drowned in that old mine shaft, and this was Hell – having Chris close, but unable to touch him, love him, be loved by him. . . .

No.  No, that couldn't be right.  There'd been a ride in there somewhere.  There weren't any horses in Hell, were there?

But he hadn't been able to climb down from the horse . . . not Peso . . . Josiah's horse.

Why had he been riding Josiah's horse?

No, wait, he wasn't riding Deuteronomy, not alone anyway.  He'd been riding _with_ Josiah.

And then he remembered.  He couldn't dismount on his own; his muscles had been screaming with pain where they weren't numb or shaking.

Was that right?  Or was he just shaking now?  Maybe that was it.  He was in Chris' arms and he was shaking . . . but then he was usually shaking when he was in Chris' arms.

But why had he been riding with Josiah?  _Had_ he been riding with Josiah?

He closed his eyes and tried hard to stop thinking.  His head hurt so much he couldn't see anything except a few blurry shapes that wavered in front of him, and thinking only seemed to make it worse.  He was hot and cold at the same time, and the incessant shivers that coursed through his body kept him from catching his breath.  And his chest hurt, badly, like someone was trying to cut his lungs out, a strip at a time, with a broken bottle.

Why?  Why did he hurt so much?  Was he still trapped?  Was he drowning?  He didn't want to drown.  He'd seen a man drown once.  He'd seen the raw terror in the man's eyes as it happened and knew then that he didn't want to die that way.  Hadn't Larabee promised him he'd shoot him before that happened?

          But Chris had hesitated.  He remembered that, too.  Had Larabee waited too long?

          God, he must be drowning.  That would explain the burning agony in his chest, wouldn't it?  If he was drowning, he had to try to . . . what?  He couldn't remember any more.

          Vin struggled feebly, a weak mewing sound escaping his lips.

          "Easy, Vin, easy," Chris soothed.  "I've got you, Vin.  Lay still."

          Chris?  Was that Chris?  Where was he?  What was happening?  Fear forced the tracker's eyes open.  He blinked, trying to clear his vision and the shapes finally came into focus.

The clinic.  He was in the clinic.  Nathan's clinic.

Nathan had been talking to him earlier, hadn't he?  He was sure he'd heard Nathan.  And then there had been that foul-tasting brew the healer had been forcing on him.  Hadn't he?

If he _was_ in the clinic, then he wasn't drowning, but it still felt like his lungs were full of water.

Vin roused himself just enough to rasp out, "What's goin' on?" as he attempted to pull away from Chris.

"You're sick," Larabee's voice told him.  "It's just the fever.  Easy, Vin, just relax.  We're takin' care of you."

And then Vin realized the gunslinger was sitting behind him, holding him, holding him tight against his chest.  He was safe.  Chris had his back.  Chris would make sure he didn't drown.

He could hear Nathan and Buck speaking to him as well, soothing him with soft whispers of assurance, but he couldn't make out their exact words.  And he couldn't see them either.  But he knew they were there.  And if they were there, the others must be nearby as well.  He was safe.  His friends were there.  His family.  Chris.

Vin let go, giving himself over to his friends' care.

Chris felt Vin relax and then eased him over and laid him down against the pile of pillows.

Nathan pressed the back of his hand against Tanner's sweaty, dirt-smeared brow, worry making his heart fret.  The tracker was so hot. . . .

At the cool touch Vin turned his head, and Jackson found himself staring into the startling, familiar blue eyes.  "Easy, Vin," he soothed.  "I think ya got the lung fever.  I want ya t' lie still, y'hear?"

Tanner nodded.

"I'm goin' to get ya some water."

Fear coursed though Tanner.  He didn't want the water; didn't want anything in his stomach at all.  He would just throw it up and that would hurt.  He had been throwing up a lot lately, and it had hurt every time.  He was so tired of hurting.

How many times had he retched?  How long had he been like this?

He didn't know the answer to either question, and he couldn't think well enough to figure either out.  He rolled his head from side to side, moaning, "No."

"Easy," Larabee soothed.  "You have to take some water, Vin."

He had to.

Chris wouldn't lie to him.  If Chris said he had to drink it, Vin knew he had to drink it, but he still didn't want to.  It was going to hurt.

And then the cup was pressing against his lips and he was gulping the sweet, cool liquid down his throat.  It felt so good on his ravaged throat, tasted so good.  He wanted more, but they were taking it away from him – too soon.  He moaned again.

"Not too much," Nathan told him.  "We have to see if ya can keep it down first.  If ya do, you can have some more."

Tanner closed his eyes, hoping it might ease the pain in his head, but it didn't.  His stomach clenched, but he didn't retch.  He almost laughed with relief.

The cup returned to his lips and he drank down some more of the wonderful water.  Then it was gone again, too soon.  He tried to draw a deeper breath and coughed once, then twice . . . and a third time.  And once he started, he couldn't stop.

The pillows returned, and someone was pounding his back.  He wanted to tell them to stop, but he couldn't breathe.  Panic flared and he tried to escape the torture being inflicted upon him, his arms flailing.  But his wrists were caught and held.

He couldn't break free of the grip, too weak, and he couldn't stop coughing.  It felt like he was dying.

He wished he _was_ dying.

And then he felt the convulsive coughs cease, and the pounding turned to rubbing on his back.  The touch felt good . . . so good.  He relaxed a little, and as soon as he did, he slipped into the blackness that swept up unexpectedly and carried him away without a fight.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"Nathan?" Chris questioned when he felt Vin slip away.

"It's all right," the healer said.  "He's just sleeping."  He looked up, meeting Larabee's eyes and smiling.  "And he kept the water down."

Chris offered Jackson a small smile of his own in return.  "What does that mean?"

"Means I got some medicine into him."

Larabee nodded, hoping it would be enough.  It had to be enough.  He couldn't lose Vin, not now.  Not after they escaped from that mine shaft.  Not ever, he admitted to himself.  Lord God, how had he allowed himself to fall in love again?

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**The following morning**

Vin was sluggishly trying to swing his legs over the side of the bed when Chris walked into the clinic.  Nathan was sitting in a chair near the bed, his head down, soundly sleeping.

"Hey, hey, what're you doing?" the gunslinger demanded, crossing the room in a hurry and reaching for Tanner.

"Chris," Vin said, straining against his grip.  He lifted a shaky hand and pointed.  "Tosi's trapped in the mine . . . we have t' find 'im. . ."

          Chris put one knee on the bed, trying to keep Vin on it and not jostle him so much that he set off a coughing fit.  "I know, Vin, I know.  But we got Tosi out.  He's fine," he told the man as soothingly as he could manage.  "Tosi's fine.  Ezra's showing him some of those fancy card tricks."

          "We cain't stay . . . water's risin' too fast," the tracker argued.  "Don't want t' drown, Chris . . . ya cain't let me drown . . . promise."

          "You won't drown, Vin, I promise you," Chris told him.  "You can't drown.  You're free.  You're not trapped.  You hear me?  You can't drown.  We'll be fine.  Buck and Nathan and the others are here.  They're going to get us out.  You just need to lay back and rest.  This'll be over soon."

          Tanner blinked away the salty sweat that dripped into his eyes.  He felt so damned weak, so confused.  His mind was so mixed up he could barely think at all.

"Don't want t' drown, Chris," he weakly protested again, his elbow slipping to the mattress.

Larabee caught him and pushed him back against the pillows.  Looking over, he saw Nathan was awake and watching them.  The healer nodded, making it clear that Chris should keep talking.  He rose and headed across the room to pour water into a cup before he added some medicine to it.

          Chris looked back at Vin, who was muttering to himself.  He sat down on the edge of the bed and started talking to the tracker, telling him about the mine, the cave-in, and how they had gotten out.

Vin was dimly aware of the fact that Larabee was talking to him, or that activity was taking place around him.  There were murmured voices and rustling noises, but his brain couldn't sort out the myriad sounds, or tell him what they meant.  His hearing, like his vision, was fuzzy.  But it felt so good not to be moving, and there was the water, sweet and cool.  He savored it, although there was a slightly bitter aftertaste he didn't much care for.

He wasn't in the mine shaft, he realized.  This was a bed.  A soft, clean bed; the sheets even smelled freshly laundered.  He wanted to sleep so badly, but he couldn't remember how to close his eyes.  Darkness crept toward him, stalking him.  And, finally, it pounced, closing over him, damping his pain and confusion.  There was quiet nothingness hovering just beyond his awareness and Vin reached eagerly for it, dropping into it with a grateful sigh.

          "Vin?" Chris called, but Tanner was out again.  Looking up at Nathan he asked, "What's wrong with him?"

          "The fever," was the only answer the healer could give.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**The next afternoon**

Vin's eyes sprang open at the touch on his ribs and a groan escaped his lips.  He shuddered as the pain peaked and a new agony took its place.  His hand came up, clawing at his chest.

"Easy," Larabee said and Vin clutched frantically his friend's arm.

"I'm sorry if this is hurtin' ya, Vin," Nathan told him softly.  "Can ya hold still fo' me?  I'll get done quick as I can."

The healer slowly finished checking the tracker's ribs, then went to work cleaning the reddened, running wound on Tanner's leg.  Sitting next to him, Chris used one hand, curved around Vin's sweaty head, to keep it from tossing while he spoke softly to the man, trying to keep him quiet so Nathan could work.

The healer was afraid for the first time in a very long time, unsure of himself and his doctoring skills.  He had seen a few others through lung fever before.  But they hadn't had an infected wound, or cracked ribs along with it, and he just wasn't sure he could cure the tracker.

The door to the clinic opened and Nettie Wells stepped inside, closing it behind her.  She walked straight over to the bed where Vin lay and looked down at the young man, her knowing gaze taking in the leg wound and the bruises.  She glanced over at Nathan, saying, "Casey told me Vin has the lung fever."

The healer nodded.  "Yes, ma'am, I think so.  He caught it after he nearly drowned in an old mine shaft.  Haven't been able t' do much t' help him.  I sent fo' some stronger medicine, but it won't be here for another couple days, maybe more."

"Well, I don't know if that medicine will help him or not, but seein' as how it ain't here yet . . . I brought a poultice fer him.  It saved m' husband's life some years back."

"Appreciate ya comin' into town with it," Nathan told her, the two walking over to the table to begin preparations, both discussing what else she would need.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Later that day**

"Damn it!" Vin sobbed weakly as the latest coughing fit finally came to an end.  His grip was knuckle-white on the sheet and tears of pain escaped from the outer corners of his eyes as he shuddered hard.

          "I'm sorry, Vin, I'm so sorry," Larabee choked, wanting to cry right along with him.  He swiftly removed the soiled pieces of cloth in Tanner's lap, all of them filled with bloody green mucus, then helped the man lean back against the pillows, but even those slight, careful movements were pure agony for the tracker.  And, for a brief moment, Chris thought that maybe, just maybe, it would've been better if he hadn't pulled that shot in the mine shaft, but he pushed that notion away.

At least Vin was still alive, still fighting.  He hadn't lost him yet.  And, with luck, he wouldn't.

          Nathan handed the gunslinger a cup in which some medicine had been poured.

"Drink this for me," Larabee urged Tanner.  "It'll help with the pain."

Vin nodded and reached for the cup, but his hands were shaking so badly he could barely hold it without spilling it.

          Chris quickly took it back.  "Here, let me help you," he said, holding the tracker's head up and pressing the cup firmly against his lips.

Vin took a sip and Chris forced the medicine into him, barely giving him time to swallow.  Then it was done and he settled Tanner back against the sweat-damp pillows once again.

Before Larabee could move, Nettie was standing beside him and he was helping her arrange a new, hot poultice on the tracker's chest.  The smell rising off the steaming mess made Larabee's eyes water and he choked back a cough of his own.  Once that was done, Vin slipped back into the oblivion he seemed to prefer recently.

Chris slowly straightened to face the worried eyes of the old woman standing beside him.  "That's all we can do for now," he quietly told her.

"The Lord will do the rest," Josiah added from the doorway.

Chris shot the preacher a look laced with ire.  "Let's hope so," he replied before exiting the clinic.

The preacher looked up saying softly, " _With the merciful thou will show thyself merciful_ , oh Lord, and Brother Vin is about as merciful as they come, so, if it wouldn't be too much of a problem, he could use some of Your mercy right now."

"Amen, preacher," Nettie whispered.  "Amen."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**The next day**

Vin's fever was up again.  Nettie pressed the back of her hand to the tracker's brow and he quieted some under her tender touch.

Lord, but he was a sight, she thought.  There hadn't been time to wash him, so intent were Nathan and the others on attending to his injuries first.  And then the fever had kept them all too busy.  As a result, Tanner's face was dirt-streaked and sweaty.  Bruises made his left cheek and eye puffy, marring his otherwise youthful good looks – the result of the rocks striking him in the mine shaft.  His lower lip bore scabs where it had been split, or bitten, and his hair was a tousle of dirty curls.  Heavy stubble whiskered his cheeks and chin.  He looked so unlike the man she had met some months earlier that it made her heart ache.

She shook her head.  Having sent Nathan off to get some much-needed rest, she shooed the rest of the peacekeepers out on the healer's heels as well.  All except Chris Larabee, who steadfastly refused to leave Tanner's side.  But even he had agreed to lie down and get some rest when she'd insisted.

So, alone with the injured tracker, she checked her latest poultice, finding it still warm.  At least the recipe seemed to make breathing a little easier for the man.

She stood and walked over to the table, preparing another for when this one cooled completely.  By the time she'd finished, the gunslinger had wandered back into the clinic.

"If you're goin' ta be underfoot, best make yourself useful," she told him sternly.  "Warm me some water an' bring me a basin.  I want to get this boy cleaned up before I put that next poultice on."

Larabee nodded and walked over to the potbelly stove to set some water on in a kettle.  "What's in that poultice anyway?" he asked her.

"Ground mustard seed, chopped onions and minced wild garlic," she told him matter-of-factly.

"If it works as good as it smells bad, he ought to be up and around in no time."

Nettie laughed softly.  "Smells worse 'n Lucifer's own feet, I know, but it's done the job it's meant to do b'fore.  It'll work again this time – seems ta work better on men-folk."

Vin shifted restlessly in the bed and Nettie walked over, sitting down on the edge and speaking to the fevered man in hushed tones, her soft, reassuring voice seemingly quieting him.  When Chris brought her the warm water in a basin, she went to work, wiping and scrubbing, but being careful to stay clear of the leg wound and the cracked ribs lest it cause him any unnecessary discomfort.

The water in the basin slowly became discolored as she wiped the sweat, grime, and dried blood from his body.

Chris sat down in the chair that had been pulled up next to the tracker's bedside and watched her while she worked.  Her hands were sure but gentle, a mother's hands.  Not for the first time he wished he could have met Vin's mother – the woman who had instilled in her son the sense of right and wrong that seemed to guide all of them.

Silently, Nettie moved the cloth below Vin's chin to remove the rings of dirt circling his neck and throat.  They disappeared easily and she moved to his collarbone and chest, unable to go any further because of the spreading bruises and the poultice.

          Vin shifted then, his lips moving as he mumbled something they couldn't understand.

Nettie wiped away the sweat that had reformed across his forehead.  "Hush," she said softly, her face close to his so he could hear her.  "Yer all right now, son.  Yer safe.  All ya have ta do now is rest."

Tanner's eyes opened, glazed and unfocused.  "Mama?" he asked timidly.

She pressed the cool, damp cloth to his brow, hoping it would soothe him back to sleep.  "Lie still, son."

          "Mama?" he asked again in a clear but low voice.

          "No, Vin," she whispered sadly.  "It's Nettie.  Nettie Wells.  But it's going ta be alright.  Ya can rest now, Vin, yer with friends."

          "Mama. . ." he breathed.

          She knew he couldn't really see or hear her.  Or at least he was unable to truly comprehend what she had told him.  His fever was weaving a vision of his lost mother before his eyes and she was supplying the dead woman's voice.

One of Vin's hands came up, reaching for her, his fingertips touching her cheek.  She caught his hand and tried to tuck it back under the blanket, but he resisted.  Even in his weakened condition he still had some strength left, but she didn't want him to spend it on a dream, so she wrapped her hands around his and held on tightly.  "Shh, son, yer goin' ta be just fine."

          Vin rolled his head to the side, catching sight of the gunslinger.  His blue eyes rounded with surprise and a little fear.  "Chris?" he breathed, saying the word the way he would when they were making love.  "Aw hell . . . are ya dead, Cowboy?"

          Larabee shook his head, saying, "No, Vin, I'm not dead, and neither are you.  You're just sick.  We want you to rest now.  You're going to be all right."

          Tanner shook with a chill, but he closed his eyes, his fingers tightening around Nettie's and she squeezed back.

          Feeling safe, he allowed himself slip back into the darkness.

          Chris sighed with relief, then looked at the older woman and asked, "Do you want me to put some more water on for that poultice?"

          Nettie nodded and finished bathing Vin.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

  **Late that same night**

          The tracker's fever peaked in the midst of a delirium.  Tanner cried out, speaking rapidly in a language none of them recognized.

          "Kiowa or Comanche," Chris said softly as he held Vin's head, trying to keep him still so he didn't do any damage to himself.  Nathan was afraid the tracker might end up breaking one of his cracked ribs, driving the bone into an already stressed lung, killing him.

          All of the peacekeepers were there, doing whatever they could to help the injured man.  JD and Buck fetched buckets of fresh water.  Josiah and Nathan dipped towels into the cool liquid, wringing them out and draping them over Vin's body, trying to bring his fever down.  Ezra held the tracker's feet, Chris his head, and Nettie kept his free hand occupied, holding it in her lap.  The other was secured by a towel that had been wrapped around his wrist and tied to the bedpost.

          As the fever built to a peak, Vin began to mutter softly, a few coherent words or phrases escaping his lips, and all of them revealing the suffering and loss the tracker had experienced over the course of his short life.

          They each comforted the man as best they could, but nothing seemed to reach past the haze the fever created – nothing except for Nettie's voice and Larabee's touch.  So the older woman continued to speak softly to him and Chris tried to soothe him, but Vin still slipped back into the dark dreams that haunted him in the netherworld he found himself lost in.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Vin moved through a shadowy world of pain and fear.  He wasn't sure where he was, but he knew he didn't want to stay here any longer than he had to.

          His chest burned with an unending ache that drained him and he could hear himself coughing, gagging on the thick phlegm, but he could no longer feel the tearing shards of pure agony that the action usually provoked.

It was still hard for him to breathe, but not as hard as it had been before, although he wasn't sure when "before" was.

          He could hear voices drifting out beyond the shadows, could feel hands touching his body, taking care of him, and he felt shame that he was too weak to tend to his needs himself, especially the more personal ones.  He should be able to take care of himself, but he had no control over his body at the moment, and no idea how to take control back from whatever had drawn him to this place.

          Strong odors assailed his senses, making his nose and throat burn.  He wanted to gag, but was afraid it might leave him retching again.  So he pulled back farther into the shadows and hunkered down, waiting.

          But the waiting wore on him and, eventually, he ventured out again, determined to do something, even if he had no idea what that might be.  He didn't like this place.  He wanted to go home.

 _Home_ , he thought.  _I have t' find a way home_.

He hadn't had a real home since he had been taken from his Kiowa family.  Not until he had met Larabee and the other regulators.  He wanted to return to Four Corners.  He wanted to be with his friends, his chosen family there.  But how?

How could he get back to Chris?  He wanted to be with Chris.  He felt good, loved, safe when he was with Chris.  He wanted to touch the man, love him, take him. . . .

He struggled, trying to find a way out of the nightmare he seemed to be trapped in, but nothing he did seemed to help.

          Then he heard her.

          "Easy, son, yer goin' ta be jus' fine . . . ya just have ta fight this fever off . . . I know ya can beat this.  Yer strong, Vin, always have been.  Yer a Tanner.  Ya remember that.  And a Tanner never quits.  Never."

          _Mama?_ he called, looking around at the grey-black landscape for her.  Then he saw something – a light, moving closer.  And before he really understood, she was standing in the distance, looking just like he remembered her – young, strong, vibrant.  Long dark-blonde hair fell around her shoulders and her blue eyes regarded him with motherly pride and affection.

          "I love ya, Vin," she said, although her lips never moved.  "I love ya so much."

          _I love ya too, Mama._

          "Ya have ta fight this, Vin.  Ya cain't give up.  Not now, not ever.  Promise me."

          _I give ya m' word, Mama_.

          "Yer friends are doin' all they c'n ta help ya.  Miss Nettie, too.  Ya just got ta keep fightin', Vin.  Fight hard."

          _I'll fight, Mama.  I give ya m' word . . . I miss ya, Ma.  I miss ya so much m' heart wants t' burst some days_.

          She smiled at him.  "I know, Vin.  I know.  I c'n hear ya."

          _I love ya, Ma_.

          "I love you, too," she told him, then slowly faded from sight.

          And, suddenly, Vin was no longer in the shadow lands.  He was back in the mine shaft, trapped under the beam, cold water rushing into his lungs, drowning him.

          "No!" he cried, fighting for all he was worth.  "No!"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Vin came awake with an anguished cry and curled in on himself, coughing and gagging uncontrollably until he was retching.  He couldn't breathe, he couldn't stop coughing, or vomiting.  He hurt, everywhere.  And, in that moment, he just wanted it to end.  Eventually, it did, and he was finally able to lie back while the others cleaned him and the bed up.  It was a little easier to breathe, he realized, but he left his eyes closed and continued panting.

A cool cloth wiped his face.  The touch shocked Tanner awake and a small moan escaped him before he had enough sense to suppress it.

          "Where're we?" he mumbled, his blurry gaze catching Larabee's eyes.

          Chris gently wiped the tracker's brow again.  "We're in Four Corners, in the clinic.  You're safe," he responded.  "Tosi's safe, too.  The others got us out of the shaft."

Vin flinched and tried to move away when Nathan began checking his leg.

"Easy, easy," Chris told him.  "Let Nathan take a look at that.  You have a good-sized gash in your leg and it's infected."

          Vin lifted his head as best he could to look down at the healer, watching for a moment while the man worked.  Then he let his head drop back against his pillows.

          "You want some water, son?"

          Vin rolled his head and met Nettie's concerned gaze.  He smiled weakly and nodded.

          Chris met Nathan's eyes, asking silently if the tracker was over the worst.  The healer only offered a shrug, unsure if it was over, or if this was just a temporary respite.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**The next day**

Vin pulled himself awake, but his head was spinning, making him squint against the meager light that was sneaking into the room from behind the closed curtains.  He had been sick on and off for the last hour, losing whatever he had been able to eat or drink before that.  He was weak and shaky, and in pain.  The throb in his ribs flared painfully with any movement.  He thought sleep would allow him to heal, but he only seemed to be getting worse, even though he was able to breathe easier now.

Other than crawling out of bed to relieve himself, he had no strength whatsoever.

          "Here," said a soft voice, interrupting his dazed thoughts.  A woman's voice.  Nettie's voice.  "I've brought you a fresh pillow, son."

          Vin struggled forward.  His ribs and stomach complaining mightily, but he gritted his teeth and pushed himself up.  A small hand slid in under his head to steady it.  He felt the cool, smooth pillow slide in behind him and he settled back against it.  Its freshness was soothing, as were the older woman's ministrations.

          "Thank ya, Nettie," he murmured.

          His voice was so scratchy it could barely be heard and she felt a jolt of fear shake her.  Vin was rapidly weakening under the fever, which would only break for an hour or two, then return with ferocity, sapping his strength.  Nettie and the others had thought he would be better by now, but the stubborn fever refused to let him go.

          She patted his shoulder.  He was young enough to be her son, and she sometimes wished that he was.  But he was so sick, so weak, she was deathly afraid she might lose him before she had the chance to tell him how she felt about him.  And she refused to do it now, certain that he would think she knew he was dying if she did.  She turned away to leave, to let him rest, but his fingers closed over hers, drawing her back.

          "Please," he said on a light airy breath, "stay fer a little while . . . please."  His hand was warm and damp and she squeezed it.

          "Ya need ta rest, Vin," she replied.  "You're goin' ta beat this, I know ya are."

          His eyes were dark and pleading.  "'M scared, Nettie."

          "Well, don't ya be.  Yer woolly t' the bone, Vin Tanner.  Ain't no fever goin' ta beat ya unless ya let it.  So, don't ya let it, y'hear?"

          He smiled weakly at her, his eyes dropping closed again.  Was it that easy?  Did he just have to decide to live?  God knew wanted to.  For Nettie . . . for Chris    . . . and for himself.  He finally felt whole again.  He didn't want to lose that now, not so soon after he'd found it.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

  **The next day**

Chris didn't turn around; he didn't need to.  The scene remained unchanged from the day before.  He ran a trembling hand over his hair.  "He hasn't kept anything down for two days, Nathan.  And he's out of his head. . ."  It was the closest he'd come to admitting his real fear, and the healer knew it.

Jackson nodded.  "I'm using Nettie's poultice, herbs from the Seminole village, a tea Josiah rode out to get from Ko-Je's people, and a half-dozen things that Ming gave me.  It's all we can do, Chris.  It's up t' Vin now.  Maybe when that medicine gets here. . ."

          Buck placed a hand on his friend's shoulder and gave it a squeeze.  "He's tough, Chris.  He'll make it."

          "I hope you're right," Larabee replied, scrubbing his hand over his face, his eyes beginning to sting.

          "Me, too," the ladies' man agreed.  He offered Chris a small smile.  "Hell, pard, I've gotten used t' havin' him around."

          Larabee nodded.  "Me, too," he whispered.  "Me, too."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

  **Later that day**

The shiver shook Vin awake.  Someone was sitting near him, a figure – dark, unrecognizable shape.  He winced at the cool hand on his cheek.  His skin hurt, but it also felt like it was on fire.

          "Chris. . ." he managed with a thick, heavy tongue.  He tried to rise up, but his neck couldn't support the weight of his head, or his arms his body weight.  His joints ached painfully and it felt like someone had set fire to his head and chest.

          "Easy, Vin, easy," returned a soft voice.  "Don't try to move."

          "Ya kept yer word, Cowboy," he said, his words slurring together.

          Larabee shushed him, his hands holding the tracker down.  "I almost killed you, if that's what you mean," he replied.  "No, lay still and rest, please.  I'll go get Nathan."

Trembling, Chris turned away.  He feared the infection and the fever had gotten too far, that Tanner's time was finally up.  Had Vin sensed it, too?  The younger man’s agitation made him think maybe he had.

Tanner hadn't eaten for a couple of days, and the fever refused to break for good.  God, he sighed silently, did it have it end like this?  Too many people in his life had already died.  He didn't think he could bear losing another one; knew he couldn't.  He was watching his soul die right along with the man who had saved him.

"Chris," Tanner called.

The gunslinger shivered and turned back.  There it was again – the sound of his name, like a prayer slipping off Tanner's lips.  "Yeah?"

"Ain't gave up yet."

"Good," Larabee replied thickly, wondering how long Vin could last.

"Ain't sure . . . I c'n beat this."

"You damned well better," he choked out, his throat tightening.

"If I don't . . . I want ya t' collect that bounty."

"I'm going to go get Nathan," Chris said quickly.  "You just lay still and rest."

"Chris . . . please . . . 's all I got t' give ya."

"I don't want it!" Larabee shouted, but Vin stared up at him, blue eyes pleading.  "Hell, Vin, I can't."

"Yeah, ya c'n.  Ya have t'.  Ya have t' use it, t' look out fer Nettie, an' yerself."

"Vin. . ."

"Please, Chris."

Larabee sucked in a breath, the tears blurring his vision.  He nodded.  "All right."

The same peace that Chris had seen come over Vin in the mine shaft, after he agreed that he wouldn't allow him to drown, settled on the tracker now.  He was at peace, knowing Chris would do as he'd asked.  And how could he say no?

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 **That night**

Chris held Vin as the tracker retched, tormented by the shudders coursing through the tracker's body.  Tanner had kept nothing down all day, and yet he was still sick.  The gunslinger held him carefully over his arm, mindful of the man's bruised ribs.  He was afraid to put his arms around the tracker, knowing every movement caused Vin pain, but he seemed to need Chris' strength right now.

But how long could Vin endure this torture?  He was gasping for breaths, his face grey and lined, his body contorted with the spasms that shook him.

          "Easy, now, easy, Vin," Chris told him softly as Tanner finally quieted.  "Let's get you a little more comfortable.  Easy, now, I'm going to lay you down."  Slowly he pressed his friend into the pillows, his strong hand supporting Tanner's lolling head.

Vin whimpered as he was jostled and the small sound pierced Larabee's heart.  Other than crying out when he'd first thrown up, Tanner hadn't made any sounds at all.  How long could it take – hours, another day?  And why?  All they'd done was try to help save a child, and this was the thanks they got?

          "Chris. . ."  Somehow, Tanner was still lucid, despite his pain and fever.  He reached out for Larabee, caught his hand, giving it a weak squeeze with burning fingers.

          "I'm here, Vin.  I won't let go."

          Chris had thought his presence would calm Vin, but the tracker was determined to fight.  At least he still had some fight left in him, the gunslinger thought.  But he should have been using it to defeat the fever, not ramble on over promises that Larabee didn't want to keep.

          "Chris," he breathed hoarsely, struggling to get into a better position to see his friend, "listen t' me."

          "No, damn it, you listen to me, Vin," Chris declared, coming at him again with the cloth.  The fever was raging and it dried the wet rag almost as soon as Chris laid it across Tanner's forehead.  The curly ends of his hair were dark and damp.  "Lie still and rest."

          "If I don't . . . if I don't–"

          "No!" Larabee declared quickly, wringing out the cloth again.  The action was useless, but he was too full of fear to sit still.  "You're going to get through this, Vin.  You are."

          "If I don't," Tanner insisted, his eyes dark and turbulent with pain.  He clutched the blond's arm, the grip surprisingly tight.  "Promise me somethin', Chris."

          "What's that?" Larabee asked, wishing he didn't sound quite so timid.

          The tracker swallowed back a bite of pain.  "Promise me ya'll get m' bounty   . . . 'n' use some 'a that money t' try 'n' clear m' name . . . Use the rest t' help Ko-Je's people, 'n' the folks out at the Seminole village . . . fix up yer place some, too  . . . 'n' Netties' . . . there be 'nough fer all that?"

          "Aw, Vin. . ."  Larabee tried to pull away, but the tracker hung on to his arm.

          "Give me yer word, Chris," Vin commanded in a voice that dried to a whisper.  "Don't let m' life go t' waste.  Fergit m' name, jist help the rest."

          "Your life's _not_ a waste, Vin," Chris said.  "Don't you ever think it is."  He reached over to loosen the fingers curled around his wrist.  "You've done a helluva lot of good here."

          "Give me yer word, Cowboy . . . please."  The tracker tugged on Larabee's shirtfront and raised up a little.

          "Lay down, damn it," the gunslinger snapped back.

          "Do it."

          "Vin. . ."

          "Promise me," Tanner insisted.

          Chris dropped back in close, his forehead pressed to his friend's.  "You're going to get through this, you hear me?" he responded emphatically.  "You've fought this thing this far, you just have to keep going for a little while longer.  Just like back in that mine shaft, Vin.  You kept fighting, and so did I, and we got you out of there.  Now you have to get yourself out of this one."  Chris wanted to believe everything he was saying.  He needed to believe it.  He couldn't let Tanner give up.

          "Don't argue, damn it," Vin got out with visible irritation.

          "And don't you argue with me," Larabee returned.

          "Damn it, Chris," Vin insisted.  "'M likely dyin'–"

          "You're _not_ dying!" Larabee shouted.  He caught Nathan's eye from where he paced in the room, his worry obvious by his stance.  The gunslinger immediately dropped his voice.  "You're going to be all right."

          "Damn ya, Lar'bee, say it!" Vin growled with unexpected energy.  He sat up and curled his hand into a fist.

Chris saw the clumsy blow coming and easily dodged it, but the swing pitched Vin forward and he collapsed across the bed with a sob and a groan.  Larabee swore softly, his eyes blurry with tears.  The tracker hurt so much, and it was impossibly painful to see him like this.

The gunman crowded onto the bed.  Gently, he got his arms around Tanner again, lifted him up and moved him back against the pillows.  Tanner's back was taut and quaking, his face white, his eyes quickly losing focus.

          "Chris, please," he pleaded weakly, swallowing his nausea as Larabee cradled his head and adjusted the pillows beneath him.  "Cain't beg no more."

          "All right, damn it, all right!" Chris snapped.  He sat back, the lump in his throat nearly choking off his words.  "If it'll shut you up, I'll do it."

          "Ya promise?"

          Chris sighed shakily.  "I promise, Vin, just like I promised ya in that damned mine," he answered, his voice cracking.  He laid a hand on the tracker's burning cheek and Vin flashed him a brief, weak smile.  "No more talking now," he whispered to the tracker, stroking the heated skin.  "You need to rest."

          _Damn it, you trapped me_ , he thought sadly, then lifted his eyes and added.  _Please, God, don't make me see it through._

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**The following morning**

Buck's heart went out to the blond man in the clinic.  Larabee sat by Tanner's bedside, his elbows on his knees, his face buried in his hands.  He looked like he'd begun a deathwatch, and when Chris heaved a huge sigh the ladies' man could have sworn Larabee had sobbed.

Lying in the bed, Vin looked like he was already gone.  He breathed raggedly, his face was as white as the sheets, his lips slightly blue, cracked and dry, and the leg wound was red and wet with something.  Silently, Nathan brushed past him and headed for his patient.

          Chris jerked at the hand on his shoulder and raised his aching head.  He came to his feet when he saw Nathan standing over him.  "Ya need to rest, Chris.  I'll wake ya in a couple 'a hours."

          Larabee looked from the healer to Tanner and shook his head.

          "Ya heard 'im," Vin rasped softly.  "Go get some sleep, Chris.  Ain't goin' nowhere."

          Chris hesitated a moment, then asked desperately, "Promise?"

          "Give ya m' word," the tracker said.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**Several hours later**

          Chris jerked awake, looking up into Josiah's smoky grey-blue eyes.  "Vin?" he asked, his voice tight with fear.

The preacher nodded, but he was smiling.  "The medicine Nathan sent for arrived.  Brother Vin's awake and asking for you."

Larabee swung out of the healer's bed and brushed past the blanket.

Nathan nodded with satisfaction and pulled the cup away from Vin's cracked lips.  The tracker had struggled to swallow the tiny amount of medicine the healer had trickled down his throat, but the potent morphine compound had slid down with no further trouble after the first sip.  Already Tanner's breathing was quieter.

"He's dehydrated," Jackson told the others as they gathered around, looking haggard and worried.  "We've got to get some liquids into him, even if it's only a teaspoon or two every hour.  This medicine should quiet him 'til that damned fever finally breaks fo' good."

          "He's had a fever for nine days," Ezra put in softly.  "When will it end?"

          Nathan was acutely aware that the others were all scrutinizing his actions.  Having an audience didn't usually disturb him – there weren't many who'd let a Negro doctor someone without keeping a sharp eye on him and what he was doing – but their collective concern made him work with slow and deliberate care.  They all so obviously cared for Vin, just like he did, and they were hanging on his every word and action, looking for something to give them a little hope.  And now, finally, Jackson felt like he could give them something.

Nathan turned his attention and gentle hands to the tracker's leg wound.  Although drugged, Tanner still involuntarily stiffened and shifted, his free hand clutching at the sheet that covered the rest of him.  His eyes fluttered open, glassy and unseeing.  The healer murmured some soothing words of comfort, and continued his examination.

          As he dried the reddened wound with a clean towel, he said, "The infection's drawn out good.  It's all but gone now.  He just needs some food to break the fever, then these stitches can come out."  He pulled the sheet down and his hands slid along the tracker's ribs to examine the injured bones there.  The swelling was down.  The younger man would be stiff and sore for a few more days, but he _was_ healing.  And his lungs sounded much clearer, the regular application of Nettie's poultice keeping the congestion at a manageable level.

Now they just had to build up his strength in order to nurse him back to health.  Vin wasn't out of danger, but he was getting closer.  And he still had some fight left.  He just had to get some food and water into him to regain more of the strength he'd lost.  The fever had taken a heavy toll on the tracker, but Jackson thought if it broke in the next day or two, Tanner had a good chance for a full recovery, and he told the others exactly that.  They erupted with hoots and hugs.

Chris didn't hear the instructions Nathan gave each of the others, emotion creeping back over him, a mixture of exhaustion and gratitude, and it left him with a bad case of the shakes.  He walked over and sat down next to Vin, his hand on the tracker's tightening.  This was the beginning of renewed hope for the gunslinger.  His faith in the stubborn tracker's strength and will had failed him, but its return felt like the loosening of a tremendous weight from around his neck.

"You can do this, Vin," he said softly.  "You can beat this, and we're going to be here for you every step of the way.  You hear me?  We aren't going to let you walk this alone."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 **Later that day**

It was like waking from an endless dream.

          As Vin labored to rise to full consciousness, his senses began to assault him.  Vainly he tried to put them into some kind of order and settle them back where they belonged, but they were slippery, uncooperative.

He struggled to move, but his body didn't respond any better than his thoughts.

Next, he made an agonizing attempt to open his eyes.  Finally, his lids cracked apart.  Streaks of white light poured through the narrow slits and he grunted in pain, but forced them to stay open.

          Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the brightness and his vision cleared.  He was in a room, but where?  There was a bed under him, a bed with fresh-smelling blankets covering him.  And then the pain began to interrupt his wandering thoughts, a dull ache spreading through his leg and chest as his head pounded in time to his heartbeat.

He heard rustling sounds and turned his head slowly, afraid of souring his stomach and touching off another bout of retching, something he did remember – too clearly.

A cool, wet cloth greeted his cheek and he stopped moving.  He looked and Nettie's face slowly appeared above him.

          Her hand was soft, her touch feather-light on his skin.  Tanner found the concern and affection in the old woman's eyes too much to bear and glanced away, blushing.  His thoughts grew drunk on the knowledge that he had family now – people who really loved and cared about him.

          And then he remembered – the mine shaft, the ride back to town in Josiah's arms, the endless days in the clinic, each of the others helping him, caring for him.  They had tackled his every need, and done it willingly, with concern for his welfare.  They had kept him alive.  Especially Chris, who had been there almost every time he had woken.

He flinched slightly when Nettie came too close to his injured ribs and she paused.  "Y' awake, son?"

"If I ain't, this dream's a damned sight better 'n the rest I's havin'," he replied.

Nettie smiled.  "We think the fever's finally broke fer good," she told him quietly, smoothing back the dark, damp ringlets of hair that had crept over his temple.

          Her stare made Vin uncomfortable and he fumbled with the sheet.  She did the same with the cloth in the basin, catching it not once but twice as it slipped from her wet fingers.

Then she gave him a reassuring smile.  "We've been worried about ya," she said.  "How do ya feel?"

"How long. . .?" he asked in a rough whisper, his tongue sluggish against his coated teeth.

          "You've been sick fer over a week," she told him.  "Nine days, in fact."

          _That long?_   Vin shifted, then shivered with the chill that followed.  Nettie responded by pulling the covers up over him.

          "Chris. . ." he began.

          "He'll be back soon, don't ya worry 'bout Mr. Larabee.  And he'll be glad ta see yer awake, too," she smiled.

          He touched her arm, not quite believing she was real.  The old woman's gaze followed his action.  "Don't remember much," Vin admitted, fatigue wearing him down again.  He closed his eyes briefly.  "M' chest hurts."  He let go of her and reached up to touch the source of his pain.

She pulled his hand back.  "Don't," she cautioned, "ya have some cracked ribs."

          He nodded, an itch on his leg drawing his attention away.  He reached for that instead.

"No," she cautioned a second time, "the stitches are still there.  Nathan might be able ta take those out tomorrow, if yer feelin' up to it."

          Tanner slowly became aware of his unkempt appearance.  Days spent lying sick and delirious in bed would certainly have affected his looks.  Stitches in his leg?  Beyond a doubt he needed a bath and a shave – he could probably use a week of soaking in a bath to get the sweat off.  He didn't know why he should care at this point, but he did.  Self-conscious, he sank back against the mattress and plucked at the blankets, pulling them up to his chin.  He averted his eyes, and felt a flush spread across his cheeks.  How much had she seen of him?  And where the hell was Nathan?  He ought to be doing this, not her.

          She chuckled.  "Hell, son, ain't nothin' I haven't seen before."

          He groaned.

          Nettie leaned over and took his face in her hands, rolling his head back so he was looking at her.  "Didn't think I was goin' ta get the chance ta tell ya this, Vin Tanner, so ya listen an' ya listen well.  Yer a damned fine man, an' I'd've been proud ta call ya m' son, if I'd been blessed ta bring ya inta this world."

          His face went red and tears welled in his eyes.  He nodded.  "Would've been proud t' call ya m' ma, too, Nettie."

          She smiled and sniffed.  "Well, then ya listen ta this old biddy an' do like I tell ya.  I'm goin' ta make ya some tea an' heat up some broth, an' yer goin' ta take both."

          "Ah hell, Nettie, I'll just end up with m' head over a basin if'n I do."

          "Maybe, but ya need ta build yer strength, an' that's the only way ya can do it.  So yer goin' ta try, y'hear?"

          "Yes, ma'am," he replied.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**A short while later**

That evening Larabee stood over his friend for moment, grateful to be able to see the man free of the ravaging fever.  He leaned over and gently placed his hand on the tracker's forehead.

Vin was cool, the fever gone, just like Nettie and Nathan had said.  That was a relief, although Tanner was still horribly pale and thin.  Damn, it had been a tough few days, but Vin was alive and on the mend at long last.  The crisis was finally past.

          The tracker stirred under the tender touch and opened his eyes.  "Hey," he greeted weakly, managing a grin for Larabee.

          "Hey, yourself," Chris said, returning the grin.  "You look like hell, Cowboy, but never better.  I'm damned glad to have you back with us."

          "Don't remember. . ."  Vin frowned.

          "You will.  Give it time.  Beside, some things are best forgotten anyway."

          "No, I mean, I don't remember leavin'."

          Chris sat down on the edge of the bed.  "You didn't leave, the fever just took you a little farther away from us than I wanted."

          Vin nodded.  "The dreams . . . they's so damn real. . ."

          Larabee nodded.  "Fever dreams."

          "I saw m' ma."

          "I'm not surprised."

          Vin blinked owlishly and looked up, meeting Chris' eyes.  "She said she could hear me when I thought 'bout her, Chris."  He smiled weakly.  "'M glad t' know it.  I'll think 'bout her more. . ."  He paused, then added, "Guess that means Sarah c'n hear y' too."

          Larabee jerked slightly, but the idea was strangely comforting.  If she knew how much he'd loved her, how much he _still_ loved her, well, that was just fine by him.  "Guess maybe she can," he said.

          The two men fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, then both started talking at the same time.

          They both stopped and Chris asked, "You need something?"

          "Jist wanted t' thank ya fer what ya did back in that shaft."

          Larabee shook with the chill that snaked down his back.  "I didn't do anything, Vin . . . I almost _couldn't_ do anything."

          "But ya did," Vin said.  "I saw ya.  Ya wouldn't 'a let me drown."

          "You almost did."

          "Ya waited long 'nough fer me t' get free, not so long I drowned.  Seems t' me that's perfect timin'."

          Chris snorted and shook his head.  Tanner logic.  "I'm just glad things worked out . . . and I didn't have to collect that damned bounty.  I swear, Vin, we're going to have to do something about that.  I don't want you holding that over me like you did this time."

          The tracker smiled.  "What d'ya have in mind?"

          "I say we ride to Tascosa and set the facts straight.  There's got to be someone who'll listen, someone who knows what kind of man Eli Joe was."

          Vin thought for a moment.  "Maybe, but fer right now, think I'll just stay right here and heal up.  If ya don't mind.  Ain't ready t' put m' neck in the noose again jist yet."

          Larabee nodded his understanding.  There would be time to clear the tracker's name.  Time . . . that was a good word.

          "Yer a helluva friend, Chris," Vin added softly.  "Jist want ya t' know I appreciate it.  Means a helluva lot t' me."

          "Likewise," Chris replied.

          And they fell back into the same comfortable silence they usually shared for a short while, then Tanner asked, "Ya think ya c'n help me get a bath?"

          Larabee smiled.  "Yeah, I can do that."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 **A few hours later**

          It wasn't what Vin had expected but it still felt wonderful.  He sank lower into the tub that had been brought up to the clinic and filled with hot water, letting the heat work its healing magic on his tired, weak muscles.  His eyes closed and he sighed softly.

          "Feel good?" Chris asked him, grinning at the expression on Tanner's face.

          "Mmm," was all the tracker said.

          "I told the others to go find something else to do for a while," Larabee added, walking over to the tub and sitting down on a small stool.  In his hand he had a bar of Ezra's fancy soap, offered by the gambler earlier, and a cloth.  He dipped the cloth into the hot water, then worked up some lather on it and began to scrub Tanner's arm, washing away the dirt, sweat and blood.

          Blue eyes opened and Vin looked at him.  "Feels good," he said softly.

          "Good," Larabee breathed, just grateful that he had the opportunity to do this.  He continued, washing Tanner's other arm and his back.  Vin rinsed himself off, then lifted his legs out of the water to let Chris wash those as well, which he did, being careful to avoid the still-healing gash.

The tracker's chest was next and Vin moaned softly when the rough, soapy cloth passed over his nipples, making them hard.  The sound made Chris' hand shake, but he forced himself to continue, scrubbing the tracker clean.

Vin took the cloth and washed his face when Larabee was done.  Than Chris shaved him while Vin rested in the tub.  And when he was done, Larabee washed the tracker's hair, enjoying the feeling of having his fingers in Tanner's soapy hair.  When he was finished, Vin looked much better than he had in many days.  He was still pale and shaky, but some color had started to return to his face and he was clean again.

Chris bound Vin's leg wound, then handed him his clothes, which were also clean.

The tracker dressed, then sat down to recover from all the activity, accepting a cup of tea from the gunslinger.  A knock on the door sounded and a moment later Nathan came in.  He checked Vin over, then smiled.  "Yo'r doin' real good, Vin."

Tanner looked up.  "When c'n I get out 'a here?"

Nathan frowned.  "Well, I don't want ya out in that wagon o' yo'rs."

"What if I take him out to the cabin?" Chris asked the healer.

Jackson thought for a moment.  Then he nodded.  "Let's see how he does today.  If he's all right, you can take him out tomorrow – in a wagon."

"Aw hell, Nate, I c'n ride."

"Not yet.  I want ya to wait fo' another couple of days befo' you get back on that monster you call a horse."

Tanner nodded.  Given how weak he felt after a bath, he knew Jackson was right.  He didn't like it, but he wasn't going to do anything to make himself sick again either.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**The following evening**

          The two men sat on Larabee's porch, watching as the sun slowly set.  The sky was painted in shades of orange, pink, and purple, broken up with large puffy clouds.  Birds sang their last songs of the day while crickets began their nightly chorus.  Both men basked in the peaceful moment.

          It was the tracker who spoke first.  "Chris, 'm sorry."

          Larabee glanced over, frowning.  "Sorry?  About what?"

          There was a long pause, then Vin said, "What I asked ya t' do in the mine      . . . an' if I died . . . weren't fair."

          "How do you figure?" Chris asked, his throat already tightening.

          Tanner leaned back against one of the support beams holding up the porch overhang, drew a deep breath, and then said softly, "I's thinkin' we's jis friends . . . but we ain't been that fer a while now . . . and me askin' what I done . . . weren't fair t' ya.  An' I never meant t' ask too much from ya, Chris."

          Larabee stood from the chair he was sitting in and walked over to the tracker, sitting down next to him.  "It wasn't too much."

          Vin looked out at the land and said, "Yeah, it was."  He reached out and rested his hand on the blond's shoulder, giving it a tender squeeze.  "Never want t' hurt ya, Chris, ya know that, don't ya?"

          Larabee nodded.  He did know, just like he knew he'd never want to hurt Vin.  "There's a difference, you know," he said, his voice a little thick with the emotion that made his chest tight.

          Vin looked confused.

          "A difference between asking for something hard, and hurting someone.  What you were asking was hard . . . maybe the hardest thing I've faced."

          "Ya already faced that, Chris . . . when ya lost yer wife and son."

          Larabee nodded.  "Yeah.  But the thought of losing you, like that . . . hell, Vin that was just as hard."

          Tanner looked away again.  "I's just scared," he said softly.  "Seen a man drown once . . . saw the fear in his eyes . . . guess I's jist a coward, not wantin' t' face that."

          "No, Vin, you're not a coward.  You asked for mercy, and I agreed to give it to you."

          "But it weren't no mercy fer you," Tanner said, his head dipping.  "I had time t' think 'bout it when I's layin' there in the clinic.  Thought 'bout what I'd've done if ya'd asked me t' do the same."

          "Vin–"

          "Let me say m' piece," Tanner interrupted.

          Larabee nodded.

          "If'n it been you askin' . . . ain't sure I coulda done what ya did . . . I'd 'a said I would, but ain't sure I woulda . . . woulda hurt too much t' lose ya . . . think I woulda jist curled up an' died."

          "No, you wouldn't," Chris said quietly.  "Not sayin' you wouldn't feel like you wanted to, Vin," he added when the tracker shot him a look, "but it wouldn't have happened.  I know.  Felt like that myself . . . 'til the day I saw you with a rifle in your hands, ready to face a bunch of drunken cowboys to save an innocent man's life.  I'd been dyin' a little every day since Sarah died . . . 'til then.  Then I started livin' a little bit each day instead."

          "Jist feel bad 'bout askin' ya t' do more 'n I ought."

          Chris met the tracker's gaze and held it, saying, "Wasn't more that you should, Vin.  You asked for what you needed . . . and I did my best to give it to you, would’ve . . . because of how I feel.  You would've done the same."

          "Hope yer right."

          "I am."

          Tanner snorted softly.  "Reckon it's easier t' be the one doin' the dyin'."

          "Yeah, maybe so," Chris agreed.  "But you didn't die."

          "Still, ain't goin' t' fergit this . . . anything happens again."

          "Damn well better not be 'again,'" Larabee growled.  "I'm getting too old t' save your scrawny ass."

          Tanner rolled his eyes.  "Yer jist gettin' lazy."

          Chris sighed loudly.  "I think it's time you got some sleep, Tanner.  You're sounding like you have a fever again."

          Vin pushed to his feet and waited until Chris did the same.  They walked into the cabin, the tracker saying, "Only fever I got now ain't got a cure.  Ain't goin' t' git over it neither."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 **Three weeks later, the Seminole village**

          The Seven sat on blankets under the hillside ledge, just in case it rained.  Vin leaned back against the hillside, looking content as he watched the villagers and his friends.  He was still a little pale and gaunt, and he tired much easier than usual, but he was slowly rebuilding his strength.

          The chief had asked them to return once Vin was able to travel and the tracker had been looking forward to the trip, so Nathan had given it his blessing, which was all Chris had been waiting for.

          They rode out slowly, their usual banter more subdued until JD said, "Hey, Ezra, I've been meanin' to ask you . . . how did you know so much about mines?  Were you a miner?"

          The gambler snorted and nearly choked.  "Me, a miner?  My good sheriff, a _gentleman_ would never stoop so low as to engage in the tedious, back-breaking labor of mining."

          "Well, how'd ya know then?" JD pressed, honestly curious.

          Standish looked like he might ignore the question, but Vin said softly, "Buck told me how ya figured ya might get t' us from the top of that hill.  Guess ya saved m' life.  Jist want ya t' know that means something t' me."

          _As your life means something precious to me, my friend_ , Ezra wanted to say, but he opted for, "A fortuitous happenstance, Mr. Tanner, I assure you.  Nothing more."

          The tracker shrugged, but his blue eyes met the gambler's green and Ezra knew Tanner hadn't bought a word of it.

          Ezra cleared his throat and said as lightly as he could, "I once had the dubious honor of winning a gold mine from a man in a poker game . . . let us just say that he presented the property's value in such a way that my expectations far exceeded the facts."

          "Ya want t' try that again, Ez – in the common man's tongue?" Tanner drawled.

          "He told me that the mine was bringing in twenty-thousand a year, but he lied," the gambler stated simply.

          Nathan chuckled.  "Ya mean he conned you?  _You?_ "

          Ezra's chest puffed out and his expression became indignant.  "He did _not_ con me, Mr. Jackson.  He simply perpetrated a rather ingenious fraud."

          "What happened to the mine?" JD asked the gambler.

          Ezra sighed and said, "After I inspected my newly-acquired property, I knew I had to . . . sell it, to someone who understood the subtleties of gold mining better than I."

          "You mean you found someone who knew less about it than you did," Josiah translated.

          "You wound me.  But let me just conclude by saying that while I was the registered owner of the Lucky Lucy, I learned more about mines than I ever would otherwise have chosen."

          "Well, however ya learned it, 'm jist glad ya did," Vin said.

          "Me, too," Chris added, shooting the gambler a grateful smile that warmed Ezra's heart.

          "My pleasure, gentlemen," he replied with honesty sincerity.

          And then the banter returned to its usual level for the remainder of the trip.

          In the Seminole village, the women immediately took Vin under their care, escorting him to one of the blankets and making him comfortable.  They fed him and handed him cups of water and fermented juices.  He took everything they gave him, taking a bite or two, a sip, enjoying the tastes, but being careful not to overload his stomach, which was still tender.

          Seeing that Vin was in good hands, the others found spots and joined in the feast, which was uninterrupted by storms this time.

          Tosi sat next to Chris, looking up at the gunslinger, his big brown eyes full of awe and adulation.  Larabee blushed and tousled the boy's hair, asking how he was doing.

          "I'm fine," Tosi stated confidently.  "But I am not allowed to play near the old mine any more," he added, sounding disappointed.

          Buck looked across at the old chief and said, "I brought a couple 'a sticks of dynamite along with me.  Thought we could seal that shaft for good."

          The silver-haired man nodded.  "That would be for the best, I think."

          Tosi and his friends sighed heavily, knowing they would have to find a new place to play and find adventures.

          Opa Locka slipped in next to Buck, saying, "I never told you how much I appreciated you saving my brother."

          "Oh, well. . ." Buck started, then remembered what Nathan had told him about the young woman.  ". . . you got it all wrong, darlin', it was Chris here, and Vin, who saved the boy."

          The young woman frowned slightly, but she looked from Larabee to Tanner, nodding her thanks.  Her gaze settled on the tracker and she studied the man for a long moment.

          Vin noticed the scrutiny and dipped his head, blushing slightly.  One of the older women noticed and scolded Opa Locka in her native tongue.

The chief watched the exchange and decided that any of the seven men would make good husbands, but he doubted any of them would be willing to give up their lives for the joys Opa Locka or one of the other unmarried women could offer them . . . Maybe next year.

But then, catching the glances Chris and Vin exchanged, he decided that at least those two men had already found everything they needed – in each other.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**A week later**

          Chris thought he was dreaming, but he knew he wasn't.  He and Vin had headed out from the Seminole village alone, the tracker needing some time away from town to finish healing.

They were camping along a shallow, slow-moving river.  The banks were wide and sandy.  Beyond the banks sandstone cliffs rose straight up into the sky, their layers and striations each a slightly different color.  The cliff walls undulated, following the meandering course of the river, which had carved out a maze of passages.  It was beautiful, serene and completely isolated.

The sun had only been up for a short while, but there were already fish cooking near the fire for breakfast.  Vin was moving around their camp, totally naked, but that didn't seem to bother the tracker in the slightest.  For his part, Larabee was wearing a breechclout Tanner had shown him how to fashion, and he still felt naked.

Larabee paused and watched the tracker.  Tanner finally looked healthy again.  His body and muscles had filled out, erasing the hollows that had been created by the fever.  His skin had turned a soft honey color from being exposed to the sun, giving him a healthy glow.  And his hair, recently trimmed so it fell at his shoulders, was a mix of golds and browns, and shone in the early morning sunlight.  The limp was gone, too, the gash on his leg nothing more than a scar now.

Then, as if sensing Chris' gaze on him, Tanner stopped and looked up at him.  He smiled and walked over to Larabee.  "Fish is almost ready."

Chris started to reply, but Vin stepped closer, his hand coming up to cup the back of the blond's head and pull him in for a light kiss.

Larabee felt himself tremble.  It had been almost two months since they had been together, and the feel of Tanner's lips brushing over his ignited a wildfire low in his belly.  He'd been afraid to initiate anything while Vin had been healing, worried that the tracker might be too weak, that it might set his healing back by wearing him down.  But Vin was healthy again and, looking down at the man's growing erection, more than ready to break a different fast.

Reaching up, Chris carded his fingers into the tracker's long hair and closed them around Tanner's neck.  He pulled Vin in, deepening the kiss.  Their lips ground together, tongues darting out to taste and tease.  And when they both needed to catch their breaths, they parted, panting, blue and green eyes locked and full of longing.

"Those fish are going to burn, we keep this up," Chris warned.

"Let 'em," Vin replied.  "We c'n catch some more."

Larabee chuckled, his hand still on the back of Vin's neck.  He pulled the tracker back in for another kiss and this time Tanner took a step closer, closing the distance between them.  His hands came up, rubbing over Chris' shoulders and back as they continued to devour each others' mouths.

Then Vin reached down and took Chris' hand, leading him over to their bedrolls, which had been laid out on top of the sand, making for a comfortable bed.  They lay down, side by side, holding one another and rejoining the kiss.

Larabee felt an indescribable thrill as his hands rubbed over Vin's body.  The feel of the tracker's muscles, his strength that Chris had worried might be lost forever, were enough to make him moan.  It had been so close.  Too close.  But he hadn't lost the man.  Vin was alive and well and lying here in his arms.

And, suddenly, the love and desire he felt for the tracker overwhelmed him, making his eyes fill, tears escaping down his cheeks.  He whimpered softly, need and relief making him shake.

Vin kissed and licked away the tears, his hands becoming gentle and soothing, stroking Chris until the trembling faded and the blond's breath evened out again.  The tracker lifted himself up onto his elbow, looking down at Larabee.  The emotions in the clear blue eyes were as easy to read as words on a page, and Chris quickly found himself lost in them.  But it was a joyous surrender, one he reveled in.

Tanner dipped his head, kissing a trail across Larabee's forehead, then his cheeks.  He ran the tip of his tongue along Chris' lower lip, then nibbled on it.

Chris moaned softly and tilted his head back.

Which gave Vin new territory to explore, and he took full advantage of it, kissing and licking along Larabee's throat.  He sucked on the tender flesh, savoring the taste, then nudged the blond's earlobe, licking behind it, drawing it into his mouth and playing with it until Chris growled low in his throat.

Vin chuckled softly, the vibration like a sting that ran from Chris' ear straight to his groin.  He was hard, so hard he hurt.  But before he could launch an attack of his own, Tanner was on the move, inching down the gunman's body, touching, licking, sucking, kissing, driving Larabee to the edge.

But he didn't allow the man to fall off.

"Damn it, Vin, you're driving me mad!"

The chuckle returned, this time while Tanner's lips were pressed over one of Chris' hard nipples.  Larabee groaned, louder this time, his hand straying from Tanner's back to the front of the cloth that trapped his throbbing cock.

Vin slapped his hand away, his fingers going to the knot that held the breechclout on his lover’s hips.  It seemed to take forever for the tracker to untangle that knot, and Chris fidgeted, his butt mashing down on the bedroll.  But then he felt the knot come loose, be pulled apart.  Then the cloth was lifted up and he was freed, his cock jutting straight up, demanding attention.

But the tracker had his own agenda, and he ignored the straining pole, continuing on his own journey down Larabee's chest, after lengthy detours to the twin nubs, which were left rock hard and aching.

Chris' bellybutton was the tracker's next stop, tongue dipping into the crevice, swirling around.

"Oh, shit," Larabee gasped, not sure if the attack tickled or excited him.  It was something of both.  "Vin," he pleaded, his hand once again reaching for his aching member.

Only to be swatted away again.

"Vin," the blond growled, thrusting his hips up and trying to get the tracker to do what he wanted him to do.

"Hold yer damn horses," Tanner growled back.

And then the tracker was on the move again, shifting down, edging between Larabee's legs.  He kissed and teased at the gunman's inner thighs, Larabee's legs falling open farther.

Then, at last, Chris felt Vin's nose bump against the blond's aching ball sac.  A moment later, one of his balls was sucked into Tanner's hot mouth.  The older man's back arched, his hips pressing up again.  He groaned as Vin rolled his nut across his tongue, then tasted the second one.

Larabee began to pant, and his cock began to dribble.  He was close, so damn close, but Tanner seemed determined to extend his suffering for as long as possible.  Bastard.

"Vin," he moaned, "please."  He hated begging, but he was going crazy, and every time he tried to help himself Tanner batted his hand away!

Chris went perfectly still when Tanner's fingers closed around his cock.  But when nothing happened, he tried thrusting his hips, trying to force the friction he needed to carry him over the edge he'd been balancing on for so long.  But the grip remained tight, stalling him yet again.

"No," he moaned.

Then Larabee froze again when Vin flicked his tongue over the tip of the weeping head.  "Vin," Chris gasped.

Another lick, followed a moment later by a kiss that sucked at the flared head that had already turned deep red.  And the lips didn't stop.  They continued down, Tanner swallowing Chris, plunging him into the wet heat that stole his breath away.  He gasped, his hips beginning to jerk, and this time Tanner did nothing to still him.  Instead he sucked, his tongue rubbing along the sensitive underside.

Larabee cried out, feeling his release beginning, his hips driving harder.  But Tanner never backed off, his saliva running down the rigid pole.

Chris felt the tracker's finger rub across his balls, then felt the pressure at his most intimate opening.  A moment later the slicked digit pressed into Larabee, sinking deeper and deeper until Vin touched that magical spot inside his body, triggering an explosion of pleasure that hurled him off the edge.

          He came with a cry, hips jerking wildly, trying to drive himself deeper into the tracker's throat and impale himself on the finger that was poking his pleasure spot.  And as he came, Vin slurped and suckled, as if he were trying to empty Larabee's balls.  And maybe he was.  Chris couldn't remember emptying so much of his seed at one time, each drop consumed by the tracker like he was a starving man.

          The waves of pleasure slowly faded, leaving Larabee's limbs too heavy to move.  He sucked in gulps of air, feeling the rivulets of sweat running down his sides.  And before he had caught his breath, Tanner was rolling him over and lifting his hips.

A moment later he felt the slick head of Tanner's cock pressing at his ass.  The tracker eased himself in, painlessly, both men groaning.

Then, slowly but steadily, Vin pressed in deeper.  And Chris could feel every inch that was filling him little by little.  He could feel the veins, the tracker's pulse throbbing in them, every ridge and angle.  If was as if he had lost some deeply needed part of himself and Vin was replacing it.

And, when Vin could go no farther, he paused, enjoying the feel of Chris' body sheathing him, protecting him, squeezing him.  "Ya feel so good," he breathed.

"So do you," Larabee replied.

Vin reached out, running his hands down Chris' back, then over his hips.  He pulled the blond's cheeks open, staring down at the intimate connection they were sharing and wondering if it looked the same when Larabee was buried inside of him.  He hoped so.  He was sure he'd never seen anything as special.

Then Vin's body began to take over, his hips staring to move, slowly at first, then faster and faster as his own demand for release could no longer be ignored or delayed.

He watched as he drew out and plunged back in, then closed his eyes, reveling in the tight heat that he imagined he could tumble into, losing himself forever in Larabee's soul.

His hands shifted, gripping Chris' hips as his pounded frantically into the man.  He could hear Chris grunting under him, knew he was pulling on his cock, swelled once again as he rode over the man's gland again and again.  But he couldn't hold the awareness, his thoughts shattering as he felt the first stringy rope of semen burst free, branding Larabee from the inside.  And then he was tumbling through the tumult of his climax, his body shaking uncontrollably, his voice crying out, a primal sound that echoed in the serpentine canyons.

He fell, forever, it seemed, but then awareness began to return.  He was slumped over Larabee's back, gasping, trembling, his cock still pouring out his seed in large dollops, some of it escaping, trickling down onto Chris' balls, then dripping onto the bedroll.  He knew he couldn't move, still caught in the paralysis of fading pleasure as his cock slowly softened.

Finally, it slipped free of Larabee's body and they both whimpered at the loss.

Somehow they moved, lying down on the bedroll, ignoring the wetness, arms and legs tangling, neither man sure where he left off and the other began.  They kissed, murmuring thoughts and feeling that would never be spoken aloud at any other time.  And they fell asleep, content and whole at last.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**A couple hours later**

          Chris awoke and stretched.  Then he sniffed.  Food . . . and coffee.  He sighed happily.

          "'Bout time ya woke up, old man."

          Chris peered up at Vin and frowned.  "Who you callin' old?"  Tanner grinned at him, and the blond was sure he'd never seen a more beautiful sight.  "Well?"

          "Hell, Lar'bee, 'm callin' you old.  Been sleepin' away the whole day."

          "And whose fault is that?"

          "Gettin' old, Cowboy."

          Larabee sighed and climbed to his feet, letting the enticing aromas guide him to the small campfire.  He'd bathe _after_ he ate.

          The two men sat down, and ate, then poured themselves coffee and drank that.  The sun was climbing higher into the sky, the heat rising as well.

          Chris looked over at Vin and said, "I'm going to go wash. You want to come?"

          Tanner nodded.  "Found a nice deep spot upstream a little ways.  Figger it'll make a good swimmin' hole."

          Larabee nodded, feeling truly relaxed and happy again.  He drank in the sight of the naked man in front of him, wondering if he would ever tire of Vin's companionship, and knowing at the same time he never would.  Josiah often said that the ways of the Lord were mysterious, and he found himself agreeing.  Finding love a second time was nothing less than a miracle as far as he was concerned.  And he raised a silent prayer of thanks to God as he stood and followed after Vin, already planning how they would spend the rest of the day.

 

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

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